Out of Control
by HarmonyAk
Summary: When a rescue goes horribly wrong, things look bleak for Virgil and Scott. Then, things get worse.
1. Broken Marionettes

**Chapter 1: Broken Marionettes**

International Rescue had never failed before.

Oddly enough it was that thought, not feelings of fear or personal peril, that raced through Virgil Tracy's head as ten levels of underground parking and subflooring caved in on them. The fear—as well as pain—came later, after the horrible noise had subsided and things had stopped falling down on top of them.

He lay stunned for a time, reeling from the sensory onslaught, lights flashing behind his eyes from the noise and the impact. Finally his brain cleared enough to process the pain. There was so much of it he was surprised he hadn't felt it right away. _Shock,_ he told himself. He had to get hold of himself. But everything hurt. His head hurt, his legs hurt, his left side particularly hurt, and it hurt to breathe. A lot. In fact, there was apparently something heavy lying across his chest. Probably the building that had stood above them until moments ago, he told himself giddily, struggling to breath.

Shock. Going into shock. With a supreme effort, he took a deep breath, whimpering at the end because it caused a tearing pain in his abdomen to do so. He forced his mind away from that and focused on the rest of his body. There was nothing on his face, so he could breathe. It was dark, so he had no idea how much space (and therefore air) he had. His left arm and shoulder were completely pinned. His right arm, though, had a little movement. He could wiggle his fingers. He could feel something with them, too. Felt soft…hair.

"Scott!" he gasped, then coughed and lay gasping as he waited for the pain to subside. "Scott," he said again, more softly. "Scott, can you hear me?" He moved his fingers through his brother's hair, noting damp places that were probably blood. He couldn't move enough to get his fingers to reach his brother's neck, but he could reach a temple, and was relieved to feel a pulse beating steadily there. So, his brother was alive. He was alive. That was good.

He wore his communicator on his left wrist, which was unfortunately attached to his left arm. That was bad. His left warm wasn't with him at the moment. It was trapped in the rubble. Judging from the pain it was still attached, but that was about all he could say for it. He thought about shouting for help, hoping that International Rescue could hear him though the rubble, but that wouldn't work without the device being activated first. Looked like it was up to Scott. And he was apparently unconscious.

"Scott," he tried again. "Please wake up." There was no response. He had been hoping for one. He wasn't used to this. Every rescue (every _other _rescue) he had been on, his brother was there coordinating it, telling him what he should be doing and where he should be going. He had never considered himself a particularly indecisive person, but it had been nice, especially in an emergency when time was of the essence, to have someone there to direct his activities. And, he admitted to himself, he had gotten accustomed to it.

He had also never considered himself a particularly claustrophobic person, but he was having a hard time fighting down the icy fingers of panic. He was buried under tons of rubble. Probably the whole building had collapsed on top of them, almost guaranteeing the people they were trying to rescue were dead. And the rest of his team was too far away (and unaware) to do anything. What a stupid way to carry out a rescue.

He felt horrible about the people they had been trying to save. Five people, one of them a child, trapped in a subterranean parking garage by an earthquake. Waiting for a rescue they knew would come, because International Rescue always came. They always saved the day. Well, not this time. They couldn't even save themselves. The aftershock had been tiny, but it had been enough to dislodge what was left of the unstable building.

He and Scott had been trying to reach the parking garage though old, old subway tunnels, after having deemed using the Mole too risky. The area was too unstable, and the Mole would have shaken it down on top of the very people they were trying to save. So they had maneuvered the Hover Jets down through the tunnels, hoping that they could clear enough debris that they could get the people out before the whole thing collapsed.

Clearly, that plan hadn't worked. Virgil wished they had gone with the Mole. Partly this was because it may have worked, saving the victims, but mostly it was because if they HAD used the Mole, it would have been just Virgil piloting, and Scott would have been safely up above, not trapped down here with who knew what brain injury. Unconscious or worse. Virgil pressed his hand against Scott's temple again to reassure himself of the pulse. It was still there.

Time passed. Virgil had no idea how much. He figured that eventually, probably in only ten or twenty minutes, International Rescue would call for a progress report. When they didn't hear anything they would get worried. But with Thunderbirds 1 and 2 already out, what would they use to get to the danger zone?

Thunderbird 3, obviously. Just because it was made for space didn't mean that it _couldn't _travel inside the atmosphere. He just hoped that they would come soon. "Scott, please wake up," he said, and realized that he was repeating himself. He had been saying that over and over while he waited. His voice was sounding increasingly desperate, though. And as before, Scott didn't wake up. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. He had to hold it together and figure something out.

"Mobile Control from International Rescue." Virgil jumped at the sudden voice so close, causing agony to shoot across his chest, torso, and arm. He lay still with teeth gritted, listening to the sound of his brother John's voice in the space station. "Come in Mobile Control. Scott, are you there?"

Of course, the sound was coming from wherever Virgil's wrist was, buried in the rubble (but still attached; that was important). They were finally trying to make contact. "We're right here," he muttered uselessly.

"Virgil," John persisted. "Scott? Are either of you there?"

Virgil noticed that he could hear the voice from two places. Ah-ha. He had located his brother's wrist. It was too far away for him to reach. If only Scott would just wake up.

As if in response to Virgil's plea (but more likely in response to the hail from Thunderbird 5) Scott moaned. "J-John?"

"Scott!" Virgil exclaimed in relief. He groaned as the exclamation caused pain to stab through his chest. Definitely some broken ribs. He hoped it was _only _broken ribs. "Scott," he said more softly. "Can you reach your communicator?"

"Virgil?" Scott asked fuzzily. "What's…aahhh…" he finished, apparently trying to move and causing something to hurt.

"Scott, are you ok?" Virgil asked before he could stop himself. It was stupid, cliché, and obviously not true, but it was still the thing to ask your brother when you thought he was going to die.

"Virgil, I'm—my leg, I think," Scott said, sounding a little better.

"Come in, anybody," John said, sounding slightly desperate.

"Scott, can you reach your wrist communicator?" Virgil asked desperately.

"Oh," Scott said. The hair moved a little away from Virgil's fingers, then, "John, this is Scott."

Virgil felt enormously relieved. Maybe they wouldn't die after all. "Are you ok? Is Virgil ok?" John demanded, sounding as relieved as Virgil felt.

"We didn't make it," Scott reported. "We got…maybe halfway through the tunnels when an aftershock made the whole place come down."

"Oh my God, the people trapped—" John started to say.

"I can't imagine how they would have made it," Scott said, sounding sick. "They were directly under the high-rise. They would have been crushed. But, look—there might be a chance. You've got to get someone here to try to go in with the Mole."

"What about you and Virgil?"

"We're trapped. Virgil? You said something before, didn't you?" He added, sounding suddenly alarmed. "You there, Virgil?"

"I'm here, Scott," Virgil said softly, wiggling his fingers in his brother's hair.

"Are you two hurt?" John asked.

"I'm pretty sure my leg is broken," Scott said. "Otherwise—"

"You were unconscious," Virgil told him.

"What? Oh. John, Virgil said I was unconscious for—how long has it been since we last contacted you?"

"Twenty minutes," John said.

"Ok, for about fifteen minutes. What about you, Virg? You ok?"

Virgil didn't even know where to start. "No, Scott, I'm not," he said finally, punctuating it with a cough and a moan at the pain the cough caused.

"Virgil's hurt pretty badly," Scott told John, sounding worried. "John?" he asked when a reply wasn't immediately forthcoming.

"I was reporting to Father on another frequency," John said. "Alan and Gordon are on their way. Just hang in there."

"They need to see if the people are still alive," Virgil said.

"Ok, John," Scott said. "Better contact the people topside and make sure their medical personnel haven't given up and gone away. Have Alan and Gordon contact us when they get here and we can plan this thing after they see what it looks like up there. Oh, and send Brains. He may have some ideas."

Virgil was amazed at how calmly Scott was handling all this. Well, that ability _was _why he was the field commander. But still, here he was directing a rescue while trapped underneath a whole lot of rubble. "Do you think they still have a chance?" Virgil asked.

"Yeah, I do," Scott said. "We're still here, aren't we?"

That was true. "We were protected by the subway tunnel," he pointed out.

"And they're protected by the parking garage. When Alan and Gordon get here they should be able to see if anyone's still alive down there. Meanwhile, Virgil, how bad is it?"

"Well, we're trapped under—"

"I meant your injuries, Virgil!"

Virgil was a bit taken aback at the tone, before he realized Scott was much more worried than he was letting on. Virgil debated sparing his brother any more worry, but there was no way he was going to suffer in silence anymore. "It's bad," he said. "It feels like the whole thing's on top of my chest and arm."

"Can you breath ok?"

"It…it hurts, but yeah."

"Broken bones?" Scott asked gently.

"Tons," Virgil said, then thought about that for a bit. "Sorry, Scott. I'm in shock and I'm not thinking too clearly at the moment. I'm sure I have broken ribs. I can't tell about anything else. There's…" he broke off to cough again, convulsively tightening his hand into a fist.

Scott gasped as Virgil grabbed his hair and pulled. "Virg, just hang on," he said. "They'll be here soon."

"I know," Virgil said. "Just…hurts to breathe."

"I know," Scott said. Virgil felt a hand against his and realized that Scott really did have the roomier part of the rubble heap. He gratefully gripped his brothers fingers. "I'm glad you woke up," he said.

"I'm sorry," Scott said.

"For waking up, or are you apologizing for being unconscious?" Virgil demanded, triggering another agonizing coughing fit.

"You need to stop talking," Scott told him when it was over and he could breathe again. "And I was being sympathetic. It must have sucked to be alone down here."

"Yes," Virgil agreed, then fell silent. Scott was right. He shouldn't talk any more than necessary.

Scott, on the other hand, had no such talking-related injuries. To Virgil's relief he kept talking, outlining his idea for orchestrating a rescue, starting with using infrared to try and detect anyone living. If that failed, then they would send the Mole to where the people had been, on the assumption that if they were still alive, it was the only hope of getting them out now, even with the high risk of causing further collapse. Of course, that was dependent on the whole building having come down, but Scott assumed this was the case, and Virgil agreed. Then after saving the people—if there were people to be saved—the Mole would come and save the trapped Tracy brothers.

"We'll be crushed," Virgil put in at this point. "They don't know where exactly we are. We're likely to get the Mole right on top of us."

Scott sighed impatiently, although Virgil knew it wasn't directed at him. It was just the helplessness of the situation. "Do you have any other ideas?" he asked finally.

"No," Virgil said. "Brains might."

"Yeah," Scott agreed.

"International Rescue and Scott from Thunderbird 3," they heard Alan say. "We have reached the danger zone."

"How's it look?" both Scott and John asked immediately.

"Scott, how're you and Virgil doing?" Alan asked in lieu of a response. "Father wanted to ask that, but apparently he can't get through. Neither could we until we got this close."

It was lucky that Thunderbird 5 had such strong equipment, Virgil reflected.

"We're still here," Scott said. "How does it look up there?"

"The whole building has collapsed. The area's kind of…sunken," Alan reported.

"Where ex-exactly are you located?" Brains asked.

"We are almost halfway between where Thunderbird 2 is parked and the—where the building used to be," Scott told him. "A little closer to the building, I think." That reply was greeted with silence. "Hello?" he asked when no reply was forthcoming.

"That whole area's collapsed," Alan said, voice strained. "It's several stories lower than street level. "You're _beneath _that?"

"Get hold of yourself," Scott admonished. "We're o—we're alive," he corrected himself, giving Virgil's hand a little squeeze. "See about the people under the building."

"Ok, Scott," Alan said, sounding tense. "Stand by."

"How're you doing, Virg?" Scott asked as soon as Alan cut the connection.

"I'm…surviving," Virgil said. In truth he was starting to hurt less, which scared him. It could mean advanced shock. It could mean he was bleeding out. It could mean he was dying. He tried to focus on something else. "How're you?"

"My leg hurts like Hell," Scott said. "But I'm feeling ok otherwise."

"Your head is bleeding," Virgil said, patting a sticky place.

"Minor," Scott said dismissively, gently but firmly pulling Virgil's hand away from the blood and gripping it more firmly. "I'll have a headache for a while, is all. Virgil, we will get out of this."

"I know," Virgil said, and tried to sound as if he meant it. "How much air do you think we have?"

Scott let go of his hand, causing him to clutch reflexively at his brother's hair. The hand was returned momentarily, though. "Well," Scott said, ignoring Virgil's weakness and gripping his hand firmly again, "I can feel a beam of some sort above me, just about at arm's reach. My legs seem to have something on them, but not my torso. No clue how far up the ceiling is there, though. I can feel rubble at both sides. It's a fairly small pocket. But we don't know if there's a channel where fresh air can come in," he hastily added.

"Air's pretty still," Virgil said. "And I have a lot less room around me than you. There's a…beam or something on my chest, stomach, and shoulder. Nothing on my face. But I don't have an arm free to feel up above me like you do."

"We'll get out of this," Scott said again.

"Scott? B-Brains here." He didn't sound happy. Virgil's heart sank.

"Go ahead, Brains."

"W-well, we don't detect much heat from the garage. B-but there's an air pocket. Not a very big one, but...Gordon is taking the Mole in for a closer look."

"Let us know immediately if anything around you starts to shift," Alan put in.

"Will do," Scott said. He then related the information about clearance around them and beams on top of them. Virgil realized that would be useful information in the eventuality that the Mole could be brought in close. He would hate it if they parked right on the other end of the beam on his chest, for example. He gripped Scott's hand a little tighter, felt the grip returned.

They waited. They could hear distant digging noises from the Mole, but the rubble around them seemed pretty stable, and it didn't even shift enough to sift down dust. Virgil was starting to feel cold and disconnected. "Hey," he said, voice sounding far away. "Do you remember that time when Gordon was five…" he broke off to cough. "When he ran his float trike into the dishes?"

"Brought the whole thing crashing down," Scott said, laughing. "Broken dishes everywhere! What a mess! Father was furious."

"And now he's above us in the Mole," Virgil concluded with a chuckle. It was the closest he could come to a laugh.

Scott laughed too, then sobered. "Yeah, but he's come a long way."

"Since he was five? Yeah," Virgil said. It seemed to be getting harder to breathe. "I think we're running out of air."

"It's a little thin," Scott agreed reluctantly. "But we can make it."

"Mole to mobile control and Scott," Gordon's voice came, interrupting them.

"Mobile control," Alan returned immediately.

"Mission successful," Gordon said so matter-of-factly that it took a moment for it to sink in.

"They're ok?" Scott demanded.

"They're all alive," Gordon confirmed, a grin evident in his voice. "They're weak. There are some injuries, but—"

"But we're alive," came an unfamiliar voice, and Virgil had a mental image of five very relieved people stuffed into the Mole behind Gordon.

"As soon as I get these folks to the surface, I'm coming to get you and Virgil, Scott," Gordon said.

"That's fine, Gordon," Scott said. "Great job!"

"Thanks," Gordon said humbly.

"What, precisely, is your plan of attack?" Scott asked just as Virgil had a flash of the Mole coming to rescue them only to slice them into lunch meat.

"I'm going to tunnel beneath you," Gordon said. "Free up some space."

"The area's probably pretty unstable," Scott said. "That could bring us down, and it could shift the rubble above us into a…less pleasant configuration." He added the last delicately, probably thinking about the beam on Virgil's chest. Virgil knew he certainly was at the moment.

"I know," Gordon said grimly. "But if I come straight at you…I don't know exactly where you are."

"What if you came in beside us, maybe ran some supports above us to stabilize the rubble?" Scott asked.

"W-wait," Brains said. "We may be able to detect where you are using the infrared."

"Don't you need to be right next to us to do that?" Scott said.

"Y-yes, and we know the rubble's right on top of you," Brains said. "We can't drive over you. But we can fly it over in Thunderbird 2."

"Good, do it," Scott said. "If you can pinpoint our location, Gordon can take the Mole right up next to us."

"And then back out, leaving a tunnel!" Gordon said, catching on. "That should work."

"J-just be mindful of shifting rubble," Brains warned.

"I concur," Virgil muttered. Scott squeezed his hand again.

They waited tensely while the Mole was unloaded and Brains did his scans. Luck was with them (finally), because he was able to pinpoint where they were trapped. Virgil was glad, although he was caring less and less as breathing became harder and harder. He listened through the ringing in his ears as the distant (but intimately familiar) sound of Thunderbird 2 faded to be replaced with the sound of the Mole digging towards them. Now the rubble _did _begin to shift, slowly at first, from the vibrations of the machine. Suddenly the Mole's cutting blades hit the beam pinning Virgil's shoulder and chest. Agony like had never felt before lanced through his body, and he blacked out.

oOo

Author's note: I haven't yet watched the entire series, so I don't know if some of the issues addressed in this story are addressed there. If so, and my work contradicts this, then you can just consider this story AU.

Further Author's note: I am borrowing very little from the 2004 live-action movie version of Thunderbirds (basically, just the importance of the command center). For the most part, for the purposes of this story, that movie didn't exist.


	2. Just a Little Spelunking Accident

_A/N: Thanks to all the kind reviews! :)_

oOo

**Chapter 2: Just a Little Spelunking Accident**

Virgil screamed. It was a horrible, pain-filled sound, and Scott cried out with him in sympathy. That, and Virgil had grabbed his hair again, tearing some of it out this time from the feel of it. Then in seconds, it was over, and his brother was quiet. Quiet and still. "Stop, Gordon, stop!" Scott yelled, even though the damage had already been done.

"What?" Gordon asked immediately. "What happened?"

"Something shifted," Scott said, deciding to leave out the details for now.

"I'm right beside you," Gordon said. "I can back out now, and there should be a tunnel right to you. I'm only a meter or so away."

Scott thought about it. Whatever had happened to Virgil might be made worse if the Mole backed up. On the other hand, his brother was worryingly still (although alive—Scott could feel a pulse in his wrist), and time was probably of the essence now. They would have to risk it. "Ok, Gordon. But back up as slowly as you can."

The Mole started to move again. Scott could feel some of the rubble on his legs shift, causing pain to radiate up from his broken leg. A memory of his brother's scream caused him to grimly and silently bear it, though. In moments the Mole had backed away. Now Scott could feel some air flow, no doubt trickling in from the tunnel it had made and filtering through the rubble. Breathing became a whole lot easier. He gripped Virgil's hand tightly, although there was no response. _Hang in there, Virg,_ he thought desperately.

"Ok, the Mole's out," Gordon said. "We're coming for you and Virgil now, Scott."

"Ok," Scott said, resisting the urge to add 'hurry.' They knew to hurry. Indeed, moments later he could see dancing flashlight beams through the rubble to his left.

Things were shifted, by hand this time, and then they were free. Well, mostly free. Scott's legs were still trapped, but Gordon and Alan pulled away the rubble separating him from the tunnel they had made. He could see three concerned faces peering at him. "Hi, big brother," Alan said. He had never been more glad to see his brother in his life.

"Virgil," Scott said, gesturing up with the hand that wasn't holding his brother's.

Alan turned his attention to where Brains and Gordon were already bending over Virgil. Scott craned his neck, but still couldn't see much. "How is he? Alan, how is he?"

"Whatever was on top of him was pushed off by the Mole," Alan said, turning back to Scott, looking pale. "He's alive. Unconscious." He gently began to disentangle Virgil's hand from Scott's hand and hair. Scott started to resist, caught himself, and lowered his arm to begin working at the debris that still covered his legs. Alan turned to this as well, and began to shift off the rubble.

With much sucking of breath, wincing, and whimpering, Scott endured having his legs uncovered. It turned out that most of what was covering them was his Hover Jet, twisted and damaged now. He didn't care. He turned his attention to where Gordon and Brains were lifting Virgil—also twisted and damaged, Scott realized, feeling a lump form in his throat. He _did _care about that. A lot. He loved all his brothers more than life, but Virgil was the one he felt the closest to, and he couldn't stand it if anything happened to him. Well, anything more than the hell he had already endured today, that was.

"Scott, Scott. _Scott._" Scott realized that Alan had been trying to get his attention, and turned his head to face his brother. "He'll be ok," Alan said, although Scott could see his own worry reflected in his brother's eyes. "Come on. You're going to have to work with me a little here."

With Alan's help, Scott managed to finish extricating himself from the rubble. Alan helped him onto a stretcher that had been placed in the tunnel. Looking up beyond his brother he could see the concerned faces of strangers. "Who?" he asked, before realizing that these were no doubt volunteers from the local contingent of rescue workers who had been the ones to finally call in International Rescue after the quake.

"You should not move him," one of them admonished Alan. "May have back or neck injury."

"We have to get out of here before the tunnel collapses," Scott defended his brother. "No time to be careful. My back and neck are fine." But he shot a worried glance at Virgil, who was on a stretcher being carried by Gordon and another of the local rescue workers. He was relieved to see that his brother had been fitted with a back and neck brace.

"Is not safe," the rescue worker muttered, reaching for the foot of the stretcher. Alan lifted the head, and together they carried Scott down the tunnel after Virgil. Within moments he was looking up at the blue, blue sky. For a moment he was startled. For some reason he was expecting it to be night, but of course that was silly. It had been less than two hours that they had been trapped down there, and it had been daylight when they went in. He smiled up at the sky despite himself; it was a sight he hadn't really thought he'd ever see again.

Scott raised his head (against the protests of the rescue worker) to see that they were being steered towards a waiting ambulance. "Wait," he said. "Wait a minute."

The worker gave him an odd look, but stopped. Gordon and the other aid worker stopped with Virgil as well, giving Scott a questioning look. Scott looked over at his brother, unconscious on the stretcher. He looked terrible, and Scott hated himself for what he was about to do. "Can you give us a minute?" he asked the rescue worker.

He gave him a very strange look, but then backed off with his friend. Gordon, Brains, and Alan clustered around. "What is it, Scott?" Alan asked.

"Look," Scott said. "If we go to a local hospital, how long do you think it'll take for them to realize who we are? Our secrecy would be destroyed. We can't compromise International Rescue that way."

"Virgil needs medical attention, Scott!" Alan protested. "So do you!"

Scott held up a hand. "I _know _that! I'm not saying we're not going to take him to a hospital!" He was horrified that they would even think that.

He got sudden support from an unexpected quarter. "Scott's…right," Virgil chimed in from his position on the ground behind Gordon and Brains. The hastily moved back to clear a path between the two stretchers.

Scott looked over at his brother, dismayed. Virgil regarded him through narrow eyes, squeezed mostly shut in response to pain, or the sudden daylight, or both. He had bruises, cuts, scrapes…his arm was obviously broken. He probably had internal injuries. "Virgil," Scott managed, not trusting his voice with more.

"You look terrible," Virgil commented, coughing and cringing in obvious pain.

"You yourself look a picture of health," Scott said dryly, and was rewarded with a slight smile. "Seriously, Virg. Are you gonna be ok if we take a little time to prepare?"

"Sure," Virgil said gamely, then closed his eyes and left the arguing to his brothers.

"You clearly have a plan," Gordon said.

"Not really," Scott admitted.

"Well, I do," said his wrist communicator.

"Father!" he exclaimed, startled. He hadn't been aware the link was live.

"I had John patch me in as soon as you reached the surface and the signal wasn't blocked," his father said. "I won't ask how you are, because that's obvious. But I'll tell you—and you too, Virgil—you have no idea how glad I am to see you boys!"

Scott smiled at the image of his father, and glanced over to see Virgil smiling slightly as well. "Me too, Father," he said. "What's your idea?"

"Get airborne, and I'll fill you in," his father said.

"Ok, father," Alan, Gordon, and Scott said together. Gordon beckoned the rescue workers back over, and indicated they pick the stretchers back up.

"Help us get them to Thunderbird 2," Gordon said.

"But we have very good hospitals!" one protested.

Brains held up a hand. "We're n-not saying you don't. But we have special facilities for our people. You understand…"

The rescue workers agreed protestingly. Clearly they did _not _understand, but they weren't actually willing to argue with International Rescue, and soon Scott and Virgil were loaded into Thunderbirds 2 and made comfortable. Gordon began to prepare for take-off. Alan and Brains left, Alan for Thunderbird 3, Brains for… "Hey!" Scott protested. "Who's going to fly Thunderbird 1?"

"Brains," Gordon answered, finishing the pre-flight checks.

"Does he know how to fly it?" Scott asked worriedly. He knew it was stupid, particularly giving the circumstances, to feel territorial about 'his' Thunderbird, but he found that he was.

"Theoretically," Brains said over the communicator.

"Theoret—" Scott began, before noticing Virgil wink at him. "Oh," he said lamely.

"Who does the repairs and the test flights?" Virgil asked. "He can fly it."

Scott relaxed and grinned at his brother. "Yeah." He had known that. He should have known that. He had seen Brains take Thunderbird 1 up before after doing major repairs. But he had probably only logged an hour or two at most. It was going to be a rough flight. At least if Brains banged it up in landing or something, he could fix it again. Scott tried to convince himself not to worry about it.

"International Rescue from Thunderbird 2," Gordon said moments later. "We're in the air. What's our destination, and what's the plan?"

"Ok," their father said. "The plan is simple: head to London. I'll contact Lady Penelope and have her rendezvous with you. She'll take Scott and Virgil to a hospital. The story is that they were spelunking and were trapped in a cave-in. No connection to International Rescue. Just the Tracy family having a bit of misfortune."

"That's good, Father," Scott said. "But what about our uniforms?" He looked down at his, which was torn, filthy, bloody, and shredded over his broken leg. Said leg was beginning to throb mercilessly, and he wished that they had taken the rescue workers up on some of their aid. A splint would be a godsend right now.

"I'll have Lady Penelope figure out something. Once you're in London, you two can change. I'm sorry, boys, I know that's not going to be fun."

Scott looked over at Virgil, who had his eyes closed again. "I don't know if Virgil's up for that, Father. His injuries are pretty severe."

"I can do it," Virgil breathed, not opening his eyes.

And so it was settled. Scott didn't like it. Gordon clearly didn't like it. He was sure his father felt the same way about it as he did, but it was of paramount importance to maintain their secrecy. If their technology fell into the wrong hands, any one of dozens of their gadgets could spell world-wide disaster. But it would mean delaying help for Virgil. He just hoped his brother was as tough as he was acting.

Within an hour it was set. Penelope had come through beautifully, as always. She had provided them with caving gear in their sizes, torn and worn just as if they had been injured wearing it. After they had changed into it (and Scott didn't even want to imagine how much it had hurt Virgil to change clothing—he himself had nearly passed out from the pain of his leg), they tore it out in the right places. It looked good. Now, they were loaded into FAB1, Lady Penelope casting worried glances from the front passenger seat. Scott was sitting uncomfortably behind her, trying to ignore the agony of his leg, which was bent awkwardly. Virgil, who had passed out again, was resting against him. He lay his head (which was also aching) gently on top of his brother's. "Not long now, Virg," he whispered.

Several hours later, Scott was in a hospital bed, leg set, head bandaged, and body full of the blessed relief of painkillers. His father, Gordon, and Alan were gathered around, and the doctor had just come in. "How's Virgil?" his father asked immediately.

"Your son is still in surgery, Mister Tracy," the doctor said. "He was badly injured…broken ribs, bruised kidney, perforated intestine. In addition to that he has a fractured humorous, dislocated shoulder, and sprained wrist."

"But he's…going to be ok?" Scott asked, thinking again of being trapped down there, of his brother's hand tangled in his hair. Virgil had to be ok; there was no other acceptable alternative.

The doctor smiled. "Yes, Mister Tracy. He'll be fine. They're repairing the intestine now. But he's going to have a long recovery."

"How's my other son?" his father asked, indicating Scott.

"He's gone for a triple, Mister Tracy: fractured femur, fibia, _and _tibula," the doctor said, looking over at Scott, who already knew this. "In addition he has a mild concussion. He'll be fine as well."

Scott smiled at him. "Thanks to you, doc."

He returned the smile with a cool, professional one. "What I don't understand is how you were able to sustain so much damage from a cave-in around _here. _I was always under the impression that the caves were shallow and pretty well-explored."

Scott shuddered theatrically. "Forgive me, Doc, but I really don't feel up to talking about it just now."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said hastily. "Of course you don't. I'll let you get some rest, and I'll have Doctor Lowry give you an update as soon as she's done with your brother." With that he left.

"They're suspicious," Scott said as soon as the doctor had left.

His father frowned with paternal concern. "You just let me worry about that, Scott," he said. "You worry about getting better."

"And Virgil," Scott said before he could stop himself.

"Virgil will be ok, you heard the doctor," his father told him firmly. "Now, we're going to go let you get some sleep. Everything will be ok."

"I want to know as soon as Virgil's out of surgery," Scott insisted.

"Of course," Alan chimed in. "I'll wake you myself." With that they left, no doubt hoping it would encourage him to get some rest.

Scott was exhausted, but it was a long time before he could sleep. He kept remembering the utter terror of being buried alive, the helplessness of not being able to save the people or himself and his brother. But most of all, he kept remembering Virgil's pain.

He was awakened some time later not by the promised Alan, but by his other baby brother. Gordon didn't so much wake him as stand over him staring thoughtfully until the pressure of the stare was enough to dislodge Scott from his fitful dreams. He twitched and opened his eyes, feeling groggy and disoriented. "Gordon?"

Gordon stepped closer and lightly rested his fingers on Scott's arm. "How are you doing?"

Scott could tell already that this was a question he was going to be hearing until he was thoroughly sick of it for weeks to come. "I'm ok," he said. "How's Virgil?"

Gordon sat down on the chair next to Scott's bed and rubbed a hand wearily through his hair. "He's out of surgery. He's in recovery now, and Father's with him. They only let one person in at a time, and Father won the coin toss."

Scott smiled a little at this. As if there was anyone else who would rate that first visit. "What did the doctors say?"

"His doctor—Doctor Lowry—said that he came through the surgery well. She said basically what that other one said…it'll be a slow recovery, but he'll be ok." Gordon fidgeted, and Scott's Big Brother Radar went off.

"What is it?" There was something Gordon wasn't telling him.

"It's…" Gordon swallowed. "It's not really the time…"

Scott reached out and patted Gordon on the arm. "What is it, Gordon?"

Gordon wasn't looking at him. "Well, it's just…when I was in the Mole digging you guys out…when you told me to stop…I did something to hurt Virgil, didn't I? I made things worse." He looked up now, meeting Scott's eyes with guilt-filled ones.

Scott sighed. "Ah, Gordon. Look, you did a great job, ok? We wouldn't be alive now if you hadn't." He thought again of Virgil's scream. Gordon may have heard that over the comm., so there was no reason to try to shelter him. The Tracys—even the baby ones, as Scott still tended to think of both Gordon and Alan, to their eternal annoyance—were tough and could handle things like this. "You hit the beam that was pinning him down. Yes, it hurt him, but it doesn't look like it did any major damage that wasn't already there, and it probably saved several minutes we would have spent trying to get it off him by hand."

Gordon swallowed. "I know. But if I'd just been a few inches off…"

Scott shook his brother's arm. "Hey. Stop it, ok? Virgil's going to be just fine."

"Ok, Scott," Gordon said, giving his brother a shaky smile. "Hey, thanks for doing the big brother thing."

Scott returned the smile. "That's what big brothers are for."

"I love you, Scott."

"You too, my little aquanaut. Now why don't you go check on Virg? Maybe they're letting him have other visitors, and I'd like a full report."


	3. Second String

**Chapter 3: Second String**

Five days had passed since their ill-fated rescue. Over the doctors' protests, Scott had been discharged the following day, and Virgil two days later. The doctors—Virgil's surgeon in particular—had lodged protests about the early discharge, pointing out how extensive the injuries were and how much better it would be to recover in a hospital. Virgil secretly agreed with them, but understood why it was necessary to spend as little time in the hospital as possible, particularly with the speculation about how they sustained their injuries. They dared not risk having someone connect them with the International Rescue mission. Although there had been no photographs, as usual, the rescue had made international news, since it was the first—and hopefully last—time that local emergency workers had helped rescue the rescuers.

Now, both brothers were convalescing in the medical quarters on Tracy Island. Virgil had been very hazy since he had come out of surgery, but today he was finally feeling alert enough to notice how much it hurt to…to…well, to pretty much everything. But the pain distracted him from thinking too much, which was a good thing.

"How you doing, Virg?" Scott asked from the next bed over, concern in his eyes.

Virgil grimaced. "I'm ok," he said, although that was obviously untrue. "I will be, at any rate," he amended. "How's your leg?"

"Healing," Scott said with a grimace. "It'll be a while before I can go out on any rescues, though."

Virgil didn't even want to think about going out on any rescues at the moment. "They're ok, right?" he asked suddenly. He had heard Gordon say that all the people trapped under the building were ok, but he had to be sure. Had to be sure International Rescue hadn't failed them.

"They're fine, Virgil," Scott said, and Virgil realized he had said it before. Virgil, in his post-trauma fog, must have asked his poor brother that question dozens of times over the last several days.

He grimaced. "Sorry, Scott. I'm still a bit…fuzzy."

"It's ok, Virgil," Scott said, and he obviously meant it. "I'm just glad you're doing better. You had us all worried."

"I had me worried," Virgil admitted.

Scott opened his mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by the arrival of Tin-Tin and Kyrano, the latter bearing a tray of food. "Oh, Virgil, you're awake!" Tin-Tin exclaimed, underscoring how out-of-it he had been since arriving back at the island. Clearly he had been awake before, but he must not have been very responsive. "How are you feeling?" she rushed to his side and placed a hand tenderly on his shoulder.

He smiled up at her, putting on the bravest face he could muster. "I'm feeling ok, Tin-Tin," he lied. He was already royally sick of this question. "Hi, Kyrano."

"Hello," Kyrano responded. "It is good to see you awake."

"I was awake," Virgil protested. True, he was kind of out-of-it, but technically awake. Still, the concern was kind of nice.

"It is good to see you better, then," Tin-Tin amended, smiling at him and stroking his hair. Virgil shot a quelling look at Scott, who was beginning to snicker.

Kyrano set the tray between them. "I thought you might be hungry," he said, mostly to Scott, but including Virgil in his look.

"Starved!" Scott confirmed. "It smells wonderful, Kyrano."

Virgil didn't feel like eating anything, but he had no intentions of offending Kyrano. So he just smiled agreeably. They chatted for a few minutes longer, then Tin-Tin and Kyrano left. Scott had already dug into the food. He shot a look at Virgil as soon as the door closed. "You feel up to eating?"

"Not really," Virgil said. It smelled good, but he had no appetite at all, which was very unusual for him.

"It's probably the meds," Scott said understandingly. "I didn't have much appetite either until today."

Virgil relaxed, relieved. "Yeah, that's probably it." That, and the abdominal surgery.

"The doctor will be stopping by to take a look at you today," Scott commented. "She can adjust your medication if you want her to."

Virgil thought about it. On the one hand, a lower dosage would make him hurt more. On the other hand, he didn't really like the way he was feeling right now. "She's coming here? Doesn't that kind of compromise our security?" he asked instead.

Scott shrugged. "Not like we haven't had guests before. If there's an emergency we'll just distract her or something. Get Tin-Tin to take her Scuba diving."

Virgil nodded, smiling at the memory of how Tin-Tin had kept their father's friend down in the underwater caves for literally hours while they had performed a rescue. So far, neither he nor any of their other guests had left suspecting anything. Of course, it would be a _little _hard to explain a big, green craft with 'Thunderbird 2' painted on it launching out from the side of the island. Hopefully, nothing like that would be necessary while the doctor was here. "Thoracic surgeons don't normally make house calls," he said.

"No, no they don't," Scott agreed. "Unless, of course, the patient happens to be the son of one of the richest men in the world."

"She'll know where our island is," Virgil said, still worrying.

As it happened, that wasn't a problem. When Doctor Lowry arrived several hours later, she was grumbling and out-of-sorts. "Anything wrong, doc?" Scott asked her when she slammed her bag down on the table next to Virgil and started pulling equipment out angrily.

"I am fine," she said. "But the blindfold was hardly necessary. And with the wind out there, causing turbulence, the blindfold was just cruel." She did look a little bit green.

Virgil bit back a snicker. Trying to compose his face he said, "Sorry, Doctor. But you have to understand that Father is concerned about paparazzi finding us."

"The pilot was not blindfolded." They all let that statement hang for a moment. "Oh, that was a stupid thing to say." She smiled a little and relaxed. "I'm sorry. Of course the Tracy private jet would know where to find the home of the Tracy family. I just don't like to feel so…so…untrusted. And currently, a little queasy." She set about examining Virgil with a much more calm demeanor than before. "How are you, Virgil?"

"I'm getting tired of people asking me that," he admitted.

She looked at him. "I'm sure you are. However, this is your doctor asking. How are you feeling? And no 'I'm ok,' because I know that isn't true."

Virgil sighed, glanced briefly at his brother, who looked far too interested in the answer to this question, and launched into his list of complaints. "I'm not in much pain. This is the first time I've been really alert since I got here. I don't have an appetite. I think that I'm overmedicated, doc."

She nodded, poking and prodding gently at this abdomen. He felt a little pain when she examined the stitches and his ribs, but it was definitely dulled by the medication. "I can give you something less strong, but I don't recommend it yet. With your recent surgery and the antibiotics you are on, you're not going to want to eat too much for a while anyway. Just soup, light food like that. And if you don't eat anything for a day or two more, that's alright as well."

"I just want to feel normal again," Virgil complained.

"It will be a long time before you feel normal, I'm afraid. You sustained severe injuries from your accident," she said. She turned her attention to his IV bag and line, checking fluid levels and the needle where it went into his hand. She nodded approvingly, then turned back to him. "But I will leave the other pain medication with whomever it is who maintains this, and you may decide which one to take. They both must be administered only once every six hours, but you can decide each time which you want; they can be mixed."

"Thanks, Doctor Lowry," Virgil said.

"You have a nurse or a doctor here?" she asked, indicating the IV bag again. I was not under that impression, but someone has been taking good care of you."

"We have some people with medical training," Virgil said. What they had was an island full of people with medical training. Anyone working for International Rescue had to be a fully-trained EMT, and he knew that Brains, Kyrano, and Tin-Tin had also taken additional classes in the event that they needed to put any Tracy brothers back together again after a rescue. "You can talk to Father's manservant, Kyrano."

"Your father's manservant has medical training?" she asked, looking surprised, then chagrined. "I'm sorry. That is none of my business."

"He's had an interesting life," Scott commented. "But Virgil's right. Kyrano's been the one changing the IV bags and administering the medications."

"Then I will talk to him on my way out," she said. She gave Virgil's arm a little pat. "You are healing well, Virgil. I am going to leave my private number with your father, and if you have any questions or concerns please call me, day or night. Otherwise, I probably will not be back until it's time to remove your stiches."

"When will that be?"

"Another week." She turned her attention now to Scott. "And how are you today, Scott?"

"I'm fine," Scott said automatically.

Doctor Lowry tut-tutted. "What did I say about lying to the doctor?"

Virgil gave his brother a 'payback's a bitch' smirk and waited for the report on how his brother _really _was. "My head's fine," Scott started. Virgil hadn't ever really had problems being honest about his injuries, but Scott was so used to being stoic that this was apparently hard for him. "My leg's…been painful."

She moved over to his leg, flipping off the blanket and gently probing it. "In what way?"

"I've been having muscle cramps, and it hurts to move it," Scott admitted.

"Well, the 'hurts to move it' would be normal," she said, "and unfortunately so are the muscle cramps. I recommend trying not to move it."

Scott gave her a dirty look. "Thanks, Doc."

She smiled at his expression. "I know that is easier said than done, but primarily I mean do not get up. Stay in bed. And what have you been taking for the pain?" she asked, no doubt noticing the lack of an IV in Scott.

"Aspirin," he admitted.

"That is a bad idea," she told him. "You should be on the same medication as your brother, although since you don't have an IV to inject it into that would be uncomfortable. I have a pill form that I will leave with your mister Kyrano. Do not take aspirin, though, as it will thin your blood and make clotting more difficult. Right now you need nice clots to help heal your leg."

Scott sighed heavily. "Yes, Doctor."

"Is there anything else I can do for you? For either of you?" she asked, sweeping her gaze over both brothers.

"No," Scott said.

"No, but thank you," Virgil said, one-upping his brother in the politeness category.

"Then I will see this Mister Kyrano, and I will see you both next week," she said.

"Hope the wind is dying," Virgil said, sympathetic to her apparent motion sickness problems. It didn't sound like it was, though. He could hear it gusting around outside.

"Thank you," Doctor Lowry said. As she turned to go, Kyrano materialized. As they walked out together Virgil could hear her giving him instructions on medication.

"Well, that went well," Virgil said after she was out of earshot.

Scott gave him a look, self-consciously covering his leg again. "You thought so?"

"I meant about any suspicions she may have," Virgil said.

"Oh, that."

"She almost seems _too _accepting of our story," their father said, materializing in the doorway and making both brothers jump.

"How long have you been there?" Scott demanded, then had the grace to look ashamed for using that tone with his father.

Their father didn't seem to mind. "For a while," he said comfortably, sitting on a chair positioned between the two beds. "It doesn't do to leave the guests unsupervised, after all."

"What did you mean she seemed too accepting?" Scott asked.

"I don't know," their father admitted. "It's just that…unlike the other doctor, Lowry hasn't asked about the accident. At all. And she seems to accept that it occurred in a cave in England, which I'll admit is a little weak. Also, she didn't look around at all while she was here, which most guests do. I mean, the secret home of one of the richest families, and she's not at all curious?"

"Perhaps she was being polite," Virgil said, although his father's concern worried him.

"Or maybe she was worried about her patient," Scott said.

"_Patients,_" Virgil corrected, refusing to be singled out.

"I suppose you're right," their father said. "She's very concerned about you both. You know she chewed me out for five minutes about getting you discharged from the hospital so soon?"

"_Some_body has an admirer," Scott teased.

Virgil blushed slightly. "I doubt that's it. She's my _doctor_, Scott! In truth, he hadn't even thought of her as a woman, per se. Just a very good doctor who had saved his life. He didn't think she thought of him as anything more than a patient, either. At least he hoped not.

"Well, I'm going to see our guest off," their father said. He stood up. "You two remember what the doctor told you, and get some rest." With that he left.

"He heard everything we told the doctor," Scott said unhappily as soon as their father had gone.

"Yep," Virgil agreed. "He's just worried about us, Scott."

Scott sighed. "I know. Hey. When she told me not to get out of bed, you don't think she meant _at all, _do you?" Scott said, looking suddenly worried.

Virgil, who had been having to suffer through the indignity of a bedpan for five days, grinned evilly. "You heard the doctor."

"I will drag myself to be bathroom by my _lips_ before I agree to that!" Scott said with feeling. Virgil snickered. "Sorry, Virg. But I'm sure you understand where I'm coming from on this."

"Oh, I do," Virgil said. "And believe me, as soon as I can walk again, I'll be glad to get a little shred of my dignity back." He yawned. "Sorry."

"You should get some rest," Scott said kindly.

Virgil _was_ sleepy. He'd been getting a lot of rest, but not much sleep. Even with the fuzziness from the medications, he kept dreaming, and that kept waking him up. He just hoped Scott hadn't caught on to that yet.

Thinking of that brought him back to the earthquake. He hated how vulnerable it made him feel thinking about it. He had been scared. Terrified. Perhaps for the first time in his life. He had been afraid of dying, but more than that, when the dust had first settled, he had been afraid Scott was dead. He had been sure the people beneath the building had been killed. He still couldn't believe that they had managed to survive, much as Scott and he had, by a freak arrangement of the falling debris leaving them enough space.

"Virgil, you ok?" Scott asked. Virgil jerked, realizing that his brother had been trying to talk to him.

"Sorry, Scott. I was thinking, I guess."

"About the building collapse?" Scott asked.

Virgil made a face. "Yeah."

Scott sighed. "Me too. But Virg, we all made it out, ok?"

Virgil forced a smile. "I know, Scott. It's not that, really." It was partly that, of course. But he wasn't ready to talk about that yet. "It's just that we came really close on this one, Scott. We almost lost them. And I realized that someday, International Rescue _won't _be able to save somebody. I don't like that feeling, Scott!"

Scott reached across the night stand separating their beds and gripped Virgil's shoulder. "I don't like that feeling either, Virgil. But it's the reality of what we do. It's a risk we take every time. And even if we do lose someone—_when _we lose someone—just remember all the people we've saved. It's all we can do."

Virgil nodded, knowing Scott was right. "Ok, Scott. I'll try."

Scott patted his shoulder. "Now get some rest."

"Only if you do," Virgil said, but he could already feel himself falling asleep. Maybe he would get a good rest this time.

As it turned out, that didn't happen. It was barely an hour later when their father came in. He stepped in with such tense energy that it woke Virgil. He wasn't sorry, since he had been dreaming again. His father had just gripped Scott's shoulder to wake him.

"What's wrong, Father?" Virgil asked, yawning and trying to force his mind alert. Scott was awake now too, looking worried.

"There's been a call for International Rescue," their father said.

"Oh dammit," Scott said. "We knew this would happen."

"It's a pretty bad situation," their father said. "It looks like a submarine ran into a cruise ship."

Scott sucked in his breath. "Many casualties?"

"Maybe not. The ship's still floating, and they're helijetting them off now. They need us to rescue the sub. Apparently its radar malfunctioned—which is why it hit the ship, and some other systems as well. It's sunk into a trench, and local rescue can't go that deep."

"So it's a job for Gordon," Scott said. He sounded a little relieved. Virgil didn't blame him. It was fortuitous that the rescue was tailored to one of the people still able-bodied enough to carry it out.

"Yes," their father agreed. "I'm taking Thunderbird 1 to coordinate the rescue. Alan will pilot 2, and Gordon 4, obviously. Scott, that leaves you in charge here until I get back, although I don't want to hear about you being out of bed unless it's an emergency. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Father," Scott said meekly. Their father nodded and left. The brothers exchanged a look. "Father hasn't ever been out on a rescue before," Scott commented.

"I do wonder why he didn't send Tin-Tin or Brains," Virgil agreed. "Maybe he's just been looking for an excuse."

Scott grinned at that. "Maybe." The grin faded. "Still, he's not as young as he used to be…"

"He'll be fine," Virgil said. "He's mobile control on this one. Gordon'll be doing all the dangerous stuff." He tried not to think about how it had worked out for mobile control the last rescue.

"Dad in Thunderbird 1, Alan in 2…this rescue has a bit of a second-string quality to it," Scott mused. "Don't tell Father I said that!" he hurriedly added.

Virgil grinned. "F.A.B., Scott."

"So I'm in charge, but I'm not allowed out of bed," Scott mused, staring at the door. "How's that supposed to work, exactly?"

"I think it's mostly an honorary title," Virgil said.

"Yeah," Scott agreed glumly. "Tin-Tin and Brains are in charge. You and I are stuck here in these damned beds."

There was a knock on their door and then Tin-Tin stuck her head in. "Scott, Virgil? May I come in?"

Scott waved her in. "What's on your mind, Tin-Tin?"

She sat down between them. "Mister Tracy has just appraised me of the situation. Brains is manning the command center. Shall I join him?" she asked, deferring to Scott. She handed him his wrist communicator. "If anything should need to be decided, we will let you know immediately."

"Sounds good, Tin-Tin," Scott agreed. "Go help Brains, then."

Thus dismissed, she left to man her post. Scott watched her go. "That was nice," he commented.

"I don't think she was doing it to be tactful," Virgil said. "You _are _in charge here, Scott, injury or no. And let's face it, when it comes to tough decision-making, you're the one to do it."

Scott looked over at him. "Thanks."

They lapsed into silence, Virgil staring at the door and Scott staring at his wrist communicator, both waiting for something to happen.

OOO

Hours had passed since Father and the others had left. Or actually, thirty minutes, if Scott was to go by the clock. But he was using a different scale of time, and at least a forever or so had passed. And now news yet. He glanced at the communicator for the millionth time, then at the door, then at his brother. Then at the communicator again.

"How many months does it take a bone to heal?" Virgil asked suddenly, looking longingly at the door once again.

Scott looked over to see his own frustration reflected in his brother's face, and was glad for it. He was a little worried at first that Virgil might find it hard to get back on the horse, as it were, but he seemed just as anxious to get back out there as Scott was. "Three months," he replied dismally, looking down at his leg.

"I can't stand this," Virgil commented.

Scott looked back at his brother, propped up on pillows, glowering at the door. Virgil still looked bad. He had lost weight, even though he was getting some nutrients from the IV. In addition, Scott knew he wasn't sleeping well. Since they were sharing a room, Scott was very aware that Virgil tossed and turned most of the night. When he did sleep he often awoke abruptly, as if from nightmares. Scott understood this because he was having the same problem. Every time he tried to sleep he was trapped in the collapsed subway tunnels again. Virgil also still looked pale, and Scott could tell his ribs bothered him whenever he laughed (which wasn't often) or got agitated (which was now). "Calm down," Scott told him, ribs hurting in sympathy.

Virgil gave him a dark look, but amended it with a smile and a sigh. "Like you're doing so much better, big brother. They've been gone for thirty minutes, and how many times have you looked at the door? Repeatedly and persistently, I might add."

Scott sighed too, and tried to relax. He felt so wound up he was surprised he wasn't vibrating. "True," he conceded. "It's not that I don't think they can handle it…"

"…But it should be us," Virgil finished. "I know."

"They could at least check in," Scott said.

"Scott. It's been half an hour. They're not even to the danger zone yet," Virgil chided gently. "Seriously. Get a hobby."

Scott looked over at Virgil, and burst out laughing. Virgil joined in, although in a more subdued way in deference to his ribs. When he could speak again, Scott said, "I guess I am a little bit bored."

"Want to watch TV?" Virgil asked.

"Not especially."

"Want to read a book?"

"No."

"Want to keep staring at the door and your communicator, waiting for news from Tin-Tin?"

Scott sighed. "Probably will, Virg. But I'll try to be quiet about it if you feel like sleeping."

"Not really. Feel like doing a bit of door-staring myself, actually." Virgil gave him a lopsided grin. "We're hopeless, aren't we?"

Scott smiled back, but his eyes drifted to his injured leg, and then to the communicator again. "Three more months," he said disgustedly.

They lapsed into silence, listening to the wind howling outside and the voices in their own heads. "Quite a storm brewing," Virgil said finally, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "The wind's getting worse. I wonder if it's started to rain yet?"

"I think it's just wind," Virgil said. "No pitter-patter of raindrops. As far as I know there wasn't a major storm heading our way. Although considering how out-of-the-loop I currently am…" he let the sentence hang, but Scott knew he was feeling frustrated and helpless again. Three months of forced inactivity. Would either of them survive?


	4. Third String

_A/N: Thank you for the positive reviews. You guys are wonderful._

_ooo_

**Chapter 4: Third String**

They didn't have to wait for three months, though. In fact, they didn't have to wait three hours. Tin-Tin had been dutifully relaying information to Scott, first that the team had reached the Danger Zone, and then later that it looked like a very tricky and complicated rescue. Now, though, she appeared in the doorway looking distraught.

"What's wrong, Tin-Tin?" Scott asked, concerned.

"International Rescue has received another call," she said, coming to stand at the foot of Scott's bed. Her arrival woke Virgil, who had been dozing.

"What's happened?" Virgil asked.

"Another call," Tin-Tin repeated. John just received it in Thunderbird 5.

Scott was at a momentary loss. Disasters that required International Rescue-caliber relief were relatively rare, and they had only had to deal with three times they were called for two calls at once. On the first it required different vehicles (one emergency in space, one on land), in the second one wasn't very urgent (they had three hours before the trapped nuns ran out of air), and in the third, the two sites were close enough together that they could drop Thunderbird 4 off at one and get the other vehicles to the other in time.

This situation, however, was even more dire than usual in light of their understaffing problem. "What is it they need us to do, Tin-Tin?" he asked.

"It's the Saturn team," she said, referring to a recent project that involved studying the gas composition of the surface of Saturn. "They radioed for help. They have lost a booster, and are in a decaying orbit. Their remaining booster is not powerful enough to maintain an orbit or to break out of the planet's gravitational pull. They will be deep in the atmosphere within twenty-four hours. No one can get there in time except—"

"Thunderbird 3," Scott finished.

"Yes," Tin-Tin agreed.

"Can you fly Thunderbird 3?" Scott asked. To his knowledge, only Alan, John, his father and himself could fly the rocket, although it was possible that Brains knew how, since he had built it. However, for that one even Brains deferred to someone else for post-repair test flights.

"I have never been trained," Tin-Tin said unhappily, confirming his fears. "Brains and I can set up the rescue equipment, but as for flying…I do not believe he can fly that one either."

"Then I'd better go," Scott said, trying not to sound to happy about it. He threw off his blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed. At least, that was what he _tried _to do. What happened instead is the sudden disturbance caused pain to shoot up his leg, momentarily blinding him.

"New plan," Virgil said after Scott's pain subsided somewhat. "Why don't you fly Thunderbird 3 to Thunderbird 5, and switch places with John? It's more than likely that this rescue is going to be tricky, and everyone aboard being able to walk will be a definite plus."

Scott shot Virgil a dirty look, but he couldn't tell whether he was totally serious or picking on him a little bit. Either way Virgil was right, as much as Scott hated to admit it. "Ok," he conceded. "Tin-Tin, you and Brains pack what equipment you'll need and get it aboard Thunderbird 3. I'll try to contact Father and let him know what we're doing. Virgil—" He looked over at his brother uncertainly, not sure how to go about trying to order him to stay in bed.

"Someone is going to need to man the command center," Virgil said, giving Scott a hard look.

It was on the tip of Scott's tongue to suggest Kyrano, but Virgil's look stopped him. There was a healthy dose of Tracy pride there. Scott wondered how detrimental the effect would be on his brother if he told him to stay in bed while he himself went out on a rescue. He wondered if it would be worse than the physical effects of getting up for a few hours. "Can you even sit up?" he asked instead.

Virgil struggled weakly into a sitting position, looking pale. "Good to go, Scott," he said after he had caught his breath.

Scott was unconvinced. He was pretty sure that being up, even just sitting in the command center, was going to set Virgil's recovery back by a lot. However, he was equally sure that he was going to have to tie him to the bed to keep him from doing it anyway, as soon as Scott had left. He nodded reluctantly. There was only one choice. "Good, I was hoping you'd say that," he lied. "Get Kyrano to get you set up in the command center. But Virgil—" here he fixed him with his best Big Brother Glare— "Take it easy, ok? Kyrano can do any fetch-and-carry you need."

Virgil nodded reluctantly. "F.A.B., Scott."

Scott was technically still bed-ridden, particularly after what Doctor Lowry had told him earlier, but they had taken pity on him the day before and provided him with crutches so he could use the bathroom without help. Prior to that he was anyway, although it involved a slow and painful crawl, much to his little brothers' amusement. He was under strict orders to ONLY use them for this purpose, and to stay in bed the rest of the time. Disregarding this completely, he hooked the crutches under his arms awkwardly and set off in search of Kyrano.

He found him easily, as he was on his way to the infirmary, probably sent by his daughter to help Scott get dressed or some such nonsense. Scott tersely filled him in on the details, cautioning him to keep a close eye on Virgil, then headed to the command center to talk to his father. Brains nodded to him and immediately vacated his post to go help Tin-Tin pack. "Mobile Control from International Rescue," Scott hailed.

He had to repeat the hail several times before his father came on. "Scott, is that you? What are you doing out of bed?" He sounded out of breath.

"How's the rescue going?"

His father sighed heavily. "Slowly. The submarine's very deep, almost at the upper pressure limit for Thunderbird 4. In addition, we're having to cut through the hull, and the equipment keeps glitching. Please tell me you didn't get out of bed for a progress report."

Scott gritted his teeth. "No, Father. There was another call." He briefly outlined the situation, and their plan. "I don't see any other choice," he concluded.

His father was silent for a minute. Finally he said, "I agree. Except that I don't think that Virgil is up to manning the command center. Get Kyrano to do that. This is going to take a long time, and it's tricky. We won't be done for several more hours at least, and you need to leave right away. Any delay and that rocket could get sucked down into the fluid layer of Saturn's atmosphere. Just take it easy, Scott, and keep in contact. If anything happens to you out there…"

"I know, Father," Scott said. "I'll be all alone on Thunderbird 5, and isolated with Thunderbird 3 busy. I'll be careful. But look…about Virgil. I don't think we're going to be able to talk him into staying in bed, Father. You know as well as I do that as soon as I leave he's going to come in here anyway. I think it would be better if we gave him permission from the outset."

His father was quiet for a while. Finally he said, "Ok, Scott. I see your point. Just make sure Kyrano and Mother keep an eye on him."

"F.A.B., Dad," Scott said.

"And take care."

"I'll be careful, Dad," Scott reiterated, trying not to feel too smothered by the fatherly concern.

"I know you will, Son." With that his father signed off to go back to coordinating the submarine rescue.

"I heard," John said into the silence. "I'll get ready and expect you here soon."

"Thanks," Scott said, not sure if he was thanking his brother for being efficient, or for not trying to convince him he was still to injured to help.

Scott was just clearing out of the command center and trying to figure out how to board Thunderbird 3 on crutches when Kyrano wheeled in Virgil. He looked tired and pale, but determined. "See you in a couple of days," Virgil commented lightly.

Looking at his brother, Scott realized suddenly that Virgil was at least as worried about him as he was about Virgil. He grinned at the realization that he wasn't the only protective Tracy brother. "F.A.B., Virg. We'll keep in touch." With that he hobbled awkwardly to the passenger elevator for Thunderbird 3. Tin-Tin was already there, suited up in her uniform, which made Scott realize he didn't have his. It would still be on Thunderbird 1. In fact, he was still in a robe and pajamas. That was a really wonderful way to conduct a rescue.

Tin-Tin caught his look. "We have already loaded a spare uniform aboard for you, Scott," she said kindly. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," he said, relieved. "Thanks, Tin-Tin."

She smiled at him, but her eyes were worried. "I wish you did not have to go. And I wish that Virgil would stay in bed."

"Me too," Scott admitted as the elevator took them to Thunderbird 3. "But you know how stubborn Virgil can be. If I hadn't let him do this, not only would he have gotten up as soon as we'd left, but he would resent me as well. At least this way he still feels like—" he broke off abruptly, but Tin-Tin had already caught where he was going.

"Still part of the team?" She said, and placed a hand gently on Scott's arm. "Oh, Scott, of _course _he's still part of the team! He mustn't ever feel like that, or you either!"

Scott opened his mouth to deny similar feelings, but she was right. He had been feeling pretty useless ever since waking up trapped underground, with no idea how they would get out, little hope left, and a complete feeling of helplessness. He hated feeling that way. He had been completely unable to do anything to help his brother or himself. And Virgil was being so brave, despite extensive injuries. He had known Virgil was scared—hell, he had been pretty scared himself—but he had kept it together.

They met Brains in the cockpit, and were underway in moments. Since all the controls were hand-controlled, Scott's broken leg didn't slow him down, although the constant throb made him wish he had taken a painkiller before leaving. "Thunderbird 3 to International Rescue and Thunderbird 5," he radioed, "We're underway."

"Good luck, Thunderbird 3," Virgil said immediately. Over the comm., he almost sounded normal. Scott decided that worrying at this point would be useless, so he should just stop it. Virgil had Kyrano and Grandma, and in a few hours their father, Alan, and Gordon would be back, and then Virgil would go back to bed where he belonged.

"Standing by," John chimed in from Thunderbird 5.

They didn't talk much on the trip to the satellite. Scott, for his part, was too busy flying the unfamiliar craft. He had put in some hours in Thunderbird 3, but had never really thought that skill would be needed. Space calls were rare enough that it was almost unthinkable that both Alan and John would be unavailable to fly. Well, he reflected, the unthinkable had happened. Perhaps they should reevaluate their decision to have to few people involved. It would be really handy right now to have more pilots.

In addition to having to concentrate on flying, Scott was also really starting to hurt. In addition to his leg—a triple fracture, just in case the pain would let him forget that—he also had myriad bruises that were being slow to heal. And his leg muscles were starting to spasm from the activity. He was trying to hide it, but Tin-Tin and Brains kept giving him worried glances, which told him he wasn't completely successful. By the time they reached the satellite all the could think about was lying down, perhaps with a nice tall glass of painkillers. Of course he wouldn't have that luxury. He would have to keep alert and make sure nothing _else _happened that required International Rescue.

They docked, and with Tin-Tin's assistance he navigated the airlock, meeting John halfway through. "What's the latest?" he asked.

"They're still fighting to save the submarine crew," John reported. "Looks like another few hours. They can't hoist it up, its doors are jammed shut, and Gordon's having trouble cutting through the skin. Also, they're helping evacuate the cruise ship passengers. There's a storm, and the local rescue crews had to be grounded."

"Jeez," Scott said. "When it rains is pours." He grimaced. "No pun intended."

"How are you doing?" John asked, unable to keep the brotherly concern out of his voice.

"I'm fine," Scott said, trying to sound convincing. "I've got it covered here."

"I'm off, then," John said. "We'll let you know when we get there."

With that John left, and Scott made his way to the control room just as Thunderbird 3 uncoupled and took off. So. Alone on the satellite. He eased himself down into the chair, splinted leg sticking out awkwardly in front of him. He pulled the bottle of painkillers that Doctor Lowry had left for him out of his pocket and took a one of them. He couldn't take as many as he would have liked, since it was important to stay clear-headed. But if he didn't take any, he would be too distracted by the pain to be useful. He wondered for the thousandth time how Virgil was doing.

oOo

Virgil wasn't doing well. It was all well and good that they needed him in the command center. If Scott hadn't agreed, Virgil would have sneaked in after his brother had left anyway. He knew Scott knew that. Kyrano and Grandma just weren't trained to coordinate the communications, keep alert for danger to their security, and so forth. Scott was a good brother to have agreed—even making it seem like he _wanted _Virgil out of bed even though he knew that wasn't true. But it really hurt to sit up.

If indeed what he was doing could be called sitting. He was slouched in a wheelchair, broken arm splinted and in a sling. Even leaning back as far as he could, he was still putting too much pressure on his abdomen. It had been days since his surgery, but he wasn't healing as fast as he would have liked. Probably getting more sleep would help, but he kept having dark dreams of being trapped. Dreams of being out-of-control. He woke in a cold sweat numerous times every night. From the fact that Scott was usually awake those times as well, Virgil suspected his brother's sleep was no more restful.

In addition to that, he was hooked up to this stupid IV. Since the line was attached to his good arm, it severely limited his mobility. Forget any option of doing for himself. He would _have _to let Kyrano do any fetch-and-carry, should anything be required. So far, things had been fairly quiet. At this rate they would never be in good enough shape to take out the Thunderbirds again.

So despite that, Virgil was almost glad this had happened. At least it gave Scott (and himself) a chance to be useful again. Five days—four of those mostly unconscious, and he was already feeling like a fifth wheel. He was worried about Scott, though. He would be alone on the satellite for at least two days, since it was a day's flight to Saturn, even with the speeds that Thunderbird 3 was capable of. Virgil was enough of a realist to know that his own injuries were worse than his brother's. The difference, though, was that he had Kyrano and Grandma taking care of him. The most taxing thing he had to do was sit here and try not to fall over, and stay awake enough to deal with anything that arose. Scott, on the other hand, would have to feed himself, undress himself, and take care of himself. He wondered if his brother had thought of that. Probably not. Scott was great about taking care of his four younger brothers; not so good at taking care of himself.

Scott had radioed a few minutes ago to report that they had docked, and then John had come on afterwards, reporting their departure. There was no new word from Father since the last report, about an hour ago. He sad morosely listening to the wind outside. The storm seemed to be getting worse, and the clouds were darkening. It might rain after all. He sighed. There was no reason for Virgil to contact Scott, but his finger kept reaching for the button anyway. He had nothing to report and nothing to ask. He just wanted to see that Scott was ok.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the eyes of Scott's portrait began to flash. Virgil gladly flipped up the communicator. "Go ahead, Scott."

The portrait image faded to reveal Scott's actual face. Virgil was dismayed to see how pale and tired he looked. He had shadows under his eyes, too, most likely from the lack of sleep. Virgil hoped that he went to bed as soon as Thunderbirds 1 and 2 got done. He could keep track of any impending world disaster from bed just as well. "You doing ok, Virg?" Scott asked by way of greeting, and Virgil suddenly wondered if he looked as bad as his brother.

"I'm ok," he said. "You?"

"God, we're a couple of invalids, aren't we?" Scott said, grinning.

Virgil returned the smile. "Let us hereby make a pact to stop asking each other 'are you ok' all the time, shall we?"

Scott nodded. "I concur."

"What's on your mind? Or did you just call to check up on me?"

Scott looked momentarily guilty, and Virgil realized he _had _just called to check up on him. "I, uh, I just wanted to report that I'm settled in here," he said, covering.

Virgil decided to let him get away with it. "Good, good. No new news from Father. I assume John filled you in on how their rescue is going."

"Yeah," Scott returned. "Not so well, I hear."

"So far no casualties, though," Virgil said.

Scott smiled at that. "Good. I hear they're helping evacuate people from the sinking ship?"

"Yeah. They're apparently scooping them into Thunderbird 2."

"What's Father doing?"

"As a matter of fact, he's helping keep the ship from sinking."

"How…oh wait. I don't think I've ever tried using Thunderbird 1 as a submersible," Scott said, looking startled.

Virgil grinned. It had been a new one to him, as well. "Yeah. He's underneath the ship in Thunderbird 1 all right. Brains said it would be fine as long as he kept firing the jets so they didn't fill up with water."

"Well, I just hope it works," Scott said. Virgil wondered if his tone was from concern for their father and the Thunderbird, or jealousy at not being the one piloting that maneuver. Probably a bit of both.

"It'll work," he said.

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "Well, let me know if you hear anything."

"F.A.B.," Virgil said, and signed off. As soon as Scott's image disappeared, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hand gently against his abdomen. It was really starting to hurt. He wondered if all hell would break loose of he gave up and went to bed, letting Kyrano take is place in the command center.


	5. All Hell Breaks Loose

**Chapter 5: All Hell Breaks Loose**

As it happened, all hell did break loose, about an hour later. Virgil had grimly maintained his post in the command center, and was glad that he had. The storm had continued to worsen, and a few minutes ago it had started to rain. Now, Kyrano had gone outside to make sure no damage was occurring to the exterior of the buildings, and to bring in the larger patio furniture. He had brought in the light stuff at the first signs of wind, but none of them had thought it would start blowing hard enough to blow away tables.

Virgil watched him out the window. The trees were whipping around harder than he had ever seen them. It must be really windy out there. He could see Kyrano making his way over to a table, cable in hand to tether it. The umbrella had already blown off and had fallen into the pool. Oh well. It probably wouldn't blow away there, and they could always dry it out later. It would be getting wet now with the rain anyway.

Kyrano reached the table just as a huge gust of wind hit, bending the trees nearly double. Kyrano, too, bent into the wind to keep from being knocked over. Unfortunately, the table didn't turn out to be so stable, and it suddenly lifted up, knocking against Kyrano. Virgil watched in horror as he was thrown into the pool. Then, to make an already-bad situation worse, the table skittered into the pool after him.

"Grandma!" Virgil screamed, forcing himself to his feet.

Grandma, to her credit, appeared immediately from the direction of the kitchen. "What is it, dear?"

"I need you to cover the command center," Virgil said through clenched teeth, on his feet now but clutching the edge of the desk for support. "Kyrano's in trouble."

"Of course. But I—I don't know how to—" She looked uncertainly at the controls.

"Ok," he said. "If someone contacts you, you push this button. To end the conversation, push it again. Ignore everything else. I'll be back as soon as I can." As he told her this, he was unceremoniously tearing the IV out of his hand, wincing at the pain both from the tape being removed, and from the sprained wrist of the hand used to do the tearing.

Grandma nodded, looking pale. "F.A.B., dear. Please be careful." She sat down and began to watch the button attentively.

Virgil didn't have time to worry about that. A glance at the pool showed that Kyrano hadn't surfaced. Either he had hit his head on the way down, or that table was on top of him. He knew how to swim, so there was no reason he shouldn't have gotten to the surface if he was ok. Virgil made it outside as fast as he could, clinging to furniture, doorways, and the walls for support. Every step reminded him how weak and injured he still was. His arm, bound as it was, didn't hurt much, but his stomach and ribs throbbed, ached, and stabbed.

As soon as he opened the door the wind hit him, nearly knocking him to the ground. He moaned in pain, pausing for a moment to let it subside. But Kyrano might not have a moment, and as soon as Virgil could breath again, he pushed away from the doorway and began to make his way to the pool, one step at a time. He reached the edge of the pool and peered in. Rain now beat down in steady sheets, making visibility difficult. Through the rain hitting the surface of the pool, though, he could make out shapes at the bottom. As he had feared, the table had landed on top of Kyrano. He could see the manservant, still conscious, fighting to free himself.

As Virgil was about to dive in, another gust of wind hit. He wasn't braced for it, and the rain had made the area around the pool slick. With a cry he fell, striking his side on the edge of the pool and slipping into the water, blacking out momentarily.

When his senses cleared he was just about to go under the surface. It felt like someone had jabbed red-hot pokers into his side. He could barely breathe, which had probably saved him from inhaling water. But if he didn't do something, and fast, Kyrano would drown. He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to ignore the pain, then let his head slip down below the surface. It was awkward trying to dive with only one functioning arm. The fact that he was fully-clothed—albeit in a robe and pajamas—helped drag him down, and he mostly let gravity take him to Kyrano. He reached the bottom of the pool and gave the table a hard shove, sending it over just enough to let Kyrano free himself. The manservant, still conscious but obviously weakening, gave a kick and headed for the surface.

Virgil tried to follow, but couldn't find the strength. The pain in his ribs and stomach made it impossible to hold his breath any longer, and he didn't have any energy to try to overcome gravity. Well, it had been a good try. At least Kyrano was safe. Just as he began to black out, he felt strong, capable hands under his arms, lifting him up.

oOo

"International Rescue from Thunderbird 1," Jeff hailed. He had just come up from his position under the cruise ship. Thunderbird 1 had held out beautifully, but the jets had finally gotten water in them, and if he hadn't come up, he would have gone down. Then Gordon would have had one more person to rescue, not to mention the very expensive advanced rescue craft. As it was, they had just managed to get the last of the people off the ship, which was now on it's way to Davy Jones' Locker. Unfortunately the submarine was being much more difficult. Gordon had been down there for hours trying to cut a hole to rescue them through. Alan was en route to the nearest shore to drop off his load of passengers. Jeff was going to have to follow. With the water in the jets, Thunderbird 1 was barely flying, and he didn't want the engines to stall while he was over the ocean. It would be a matter of at least half-hour to clear them, and he needed to land to do that.

"International Rescue," came the unexpected voice of his mother. Moments later her face appeared on the screen. "Hey, it works, neat—go ahead, son."

"Mom?" Jeff asked, startled. "What's going on? Where's Virgil?"

His mother's eyes shifted. "Are you saying that I can't take care of things here? Virgil's just taking a little rest, that's all."

She was lying. She had never been very good at duplicity at the best of times, but right now her face was stricken with worry. "What happened?" he demanded, horrified.

She sighed. "I could never lie to you, could I? Ok, fine. There's been a little…accident."

"What kind of accident?"

"Well…you know we're having a bit of a storm here."

"Yes," Jeff agreed, fighting the urge to snap at her to get on with it.

"Well, young Kyrano was out trying to bring things in, so they wouldn't blow away, you know…Well, he somehow fell into the pool."

"Is he ok?" Jeff asked, concerned. Kyrano was one of his dearest friends, and he cared about him almost as much as his sons.

"He's fine," Grandma said. "Virgil went out to rescue him."

"Virgil went _outside in a wind storm_?" Jeff demanded. "His injuries—"

"Not only that, he had to go into the pool after Kyrano. I guess he was trapped at the bottom."

"What happened?" Jeff asked, not liking where this was going at all.

"He got Kyrano out, but he fell and hurt himself," Grandma said. "I wasn't supposed to tell you, because now you'll worry."

"Mother!" Jeff snapped. "Of course you should tell me! How's Virgil now?"

He could tell his mother was still debating sugar-coating this. Finally she decided to come clean, though. She sighed. "He's in a bad way, Jeff. He fell right on his stomach, and I think it's torn something. He's semi-conscious, he's in a lot of pain, and he's bleeding."

"Oh, God," Jeff breathed, businesslike demeanor momentarily cracked.

"He needs a doctor, and soon," Grandma continued.

Jeff felt the jaws of fate snap shut on him. They couldn't leave here right now. Thunderbird 1 could barely fly. Even if he could get back to Tracy Island at all, it would be slow going. And they couldn't possibly take Thunderbird 2; it was needed for the rescue right here. Those people in the submarine were counting on them. The only alternative was to call in a medevac hovercopter, but as far out as Tracy Island was, the fastest 'copter would still take two hours to arrive, not to mention that it would compromise their secrecy. "How long does he have?" he asked.

"I…I don't know," his mother said, looking upset. "Kyrano said it looks really bad. Maybe an hour."

They couldn't get to him in an hour. His son was going to die. Jeff felt as helpless as he had when his sons were trapped in the collapsed subway tunnel. "I heard, Father, and I'm going to get him," Alan's voice suddenly announced over the comm.

"Thunderbird 2 is needed here," Jeff said automatically, hating himself for it.

"Father! We can't leave Virgil to die!" Alan exclaimed, sounding horrified. "Unless you can fly there, Thunderbird 2 is the only chance he has!"

"Son…Alan…I know how you feel. But you simply cannot leave in the middle of a rescue. Those people down there are counting on us." He hated what he was about to say. "Do you really think Virgil would want you to leave them?"

"You're right, father," Alan said, but his tone sounded anything but obedient. "Virgil would want us to stay here. He would give his life to save people. I would give _my _life to save people, too. We all would. But I will _not _give my brother's life! I'm sorry, Father, but you and Gordon will just have to manage without Thunderbird 2!" With that he signed off.

"Alan. Alan!" In the distance, Jeff could see the green bulk of Thunderbird 2 lift off from where it had just deposited its passengers, and streak off in the direction of Tracy Island. He couldn't really fault his son. If he had let his emotions guide him he would have done the exact same thing. But now it was up to a tiny submersible and a crippled rocket plane to save the people in the submarine, and he didn't see how they could do it. He just hoped Alan was going to be in time to save his brother.

oOo

Scott sat staring at the console, feeling like he had been gutted. He had heard the whole exchange. He never should have left! That thought was immediately followed by the more rational one, though: of course he should have left. If he hadn't, the people on the Saturn rocket wouldn't stand a chance. International Rescue saved lives. It was what they had been created for. He understood his father's position, as well. The logical thing to do was to complete the rescue. But Scott realized he would have done the exact same thing as Alan if he had been in his situation. Virgil's life was worth more than the lives of the people they were trying to rescue. He knew it was a selfish thought, but he couldn't help himself.

"Dammit, Virgil!" He banged his fist on the arm of the chair. He felt so helpless. This was worse than when they were trapped underground, and he hadn't thought that was possible. At least there, he had been able to talk to his brother, hold his hand, offer some comfort. Now, he couldn't do those things. He didn't know how bad he really was. And to top it all off, he was going to have to suffer up here for at _least _two days before Thunderbird 3 could return and take him back to Earth. And that was assuming there were no complications with the Saturn rescue.

He desperately wanted to call John and have him come and pick him up. But it was an irrational thought. The rocket was several hours out, now. By the time they could get back to Earth it would be too late to do anything to help Virgil. In fact, he shouldn't even tell them what was going on. They couldn't help, and it would only distract them from the rescue. They would be furious with him for not telling them, of course. But he would have to deal with that later.

He would have paced if he could have. The damned broken leg prevented that, so instead he drummed his fingers, reaching every few seconds for the button to contact Tracy Island and find out how Virgil was. But if there was anything to report, Grandma would let them know. Assuming she could figure out how to send an outgoing message. So he waited.

It was nearly forty-five minutes later—the longest minutes of Scott's life—when any news came in. "Mobile control and Thunderbird 5 from Thunderbird 2," Alan hailed.

"Go ahead, Alan," their father said just as Scott was reaching for the controls.

"I'm back on the island. We just loaded Virgil and I'm taking off now."

"How is he?" Scott asked, cutting off his father, who was trying to talk.

"Not good," Alan said grimly. "He's alive. But it's not good."

"You're going to rendezvous with Lady Penelope to take him to the hospital?" his father asked.

"No," Alan said, and Scott realized that he hadn't even thought about that. "I'm taking him directly to the hospital."

"But Alan—"

"No, Father! There's no time!"

This was really Alan's day for rebellion. "I think it'll be ok, Father," Scott chimed in, defending his brother's choice. "International Rescue is a logical choice to be called in to save the son of a billionaire, isn't it?"

"Well," his father said hesitantly, "I suppose. Yes, that should work. I—Jeff Tracy, son, no relation to International Rescue—called in because there wasn't time to call a hovercopter. You can even be honest with the doctor about the new injuries. Nothing too suspicious about falling. The weather and all that…" his voice petered out. As cold as his attitude often seemed, Scott was somewhat gratified to note that his father was just as worried about Virgil as the rest of them were.

"F.A.B., Father," Alan said. "I'll head back as soon as I get him to a hospital. I'm sorry about—"

"No apologies," his father said. "Come back when you can. We're handling things here."

"How is the rescue coming, Father?" Scott asked, wishing the cared about the answer to that.

"Gordon's almost through," his father reported. "As soon as he cuts a hole the trapped men can swim out. They have breathing gear. The pressure will be hard for them to take, but they'll be immediately going into Thunderbird 4, and there's a decompression chamber waiting for them on the mainland. I've cleared Thunderbird 1's jets. Also, the storm seems to be lessening, so the local rescue workers will be able to come back shortly."

"Glad to hear it," Scott said automatically. He had only been giving half an ear to his father, though. His mind was on Virgil. From his father's slightly distracted tone, he imagined that his was as well.

oOo

Jeff arrived at the hospital several hours later to face an irate thoracic surgeon. "I _told _you not to check him out from the hospital!" she spat by way of greeting.

Doctor Lowry had just gotten out of surgery (_Virgil's _surgery), and Jeff was trying to ignore the smudges of blood on her scrubs. "How is my son?" he asked, choosing to ignore her accusatory tone and words.

She cooled somewhat, noting his concern. "He will live. But it was a very close thing. His ribs—already broken ribs—were pushed into the abdominal cavity, causing a lot of internal damage. I was able to repair that, but he's going to be very sick for a very long time. I trust that you'll let me keep him here this time?"

Jeff decided not to go there right now. In truth, it was far too risky to have a long association with any one place, and he would have to check Virgil out as soon as he was able. "Can I see him?" he asked, avoiding the question.

"He had no business being out of bed," Doctor Lowry said, ignoring _his _question.

"I thought that the International Rescue people explained all that."

She rolled her eyes. "_International Rescue _mentioned something about helping the hired hand out of the pool," she allowed, giving him a searching look. He wasn't sure what to make of this doctor, and her attitude, which seemed just a half-beat off. Perhaps she was just very protective of her patients. But there had been something in her eyes when she said 'International Rescue' that he didn't like. This was a smart one. He would have to get Virgil out of here as soon as possible.

When Alan had dropped Virgil off he had explained to them what had happened, with the storm, the pool, and Kyrano. As they had hoped, it didn't raise any particular suspicions, except apparently with Doctor Lowry. But unfortunately, it meant that Alan couldn't visit his brother in the hospital, now that they had all seen his face in connection with International Rescue. The youngest Tracy was now holding down the command center, allowing Grandma and Kyrano to come to the hospital.

They were all here now: Jeff, Gordon, Mother, Kyrano, and even Lady Penelope and Parker. "I am so sorry, Mister Tracy," Kyrano said for at least the tenth time.

"Kyrano, it wasn't your fault," Jeff said. Again. He had been reassuring the distraught man since he had arrived. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just glad you're ok."

Kyrano gave him a pleased look at that, but it was still tinged with guilt. He was going to feel badly about this no matter what anyone said. "Thank you," he said.

"Doctor, can I see my son?" Jeff asked again.

She sighed, relenting. "Yes. Only you for now, though. He's still anesthetized and in recovery. I _shouldn't _even let you in there. You can only stay a few minutes."

He thanked her and followed her into the recovery room, giving an apologetic glance over his shoulder to Gordon and Mother, whom no doubt wanted to see Virgil as badly as he did. When he saw his son, though, he was just as glad that his mother couldn't see him. Her heart probably wouldn't be able to take it.

Virgil looked terrible. Jeff had to touch his face, reassure himself that his son still lived. He was ashen, eyelashes standing out starkly against a face as white as death and eyelids almost translucent. Jeff sat at his son's side and gently gripped his hand, being careful not to disturb the IV line. "I'm sorry, son," he said. "Sorry I couldn't be there for you." He heard the doctor quietly leave, giving him privacy. "Hang in there, Son," he said, pressing Virgil's cold fingers against his lips in a fatherly kiss. "Just hang in there."


	6. Uninformed

**Chapter 6: Uninformed**

Scott was in Hell. He wanted desperately to be with his brother, with his family. He got all his news secondhand, relayed from Tracy Island, first by Grandma, then Kyrano, and finally from Father, back in his usual place in the command center. It was, for the most part, _good _news: Virgil had survived the trip to the hospital—albeit barely, survived surgery. His father and Gordon had saved the people on the submarine. But even though the news was good, it was a poor substitute for being there with them. He needed to _see _Virgil, see that he was really still alive. "It's been almost a day, is that normal?" he was asking. Virgil still hadn't woken up, which was all the more reason he should be there and not _stuck up here in space_.

"The doctor assures me he's not in a coma," his father said. "He's just giving his body time to recover. She said this is a normal response. Don't worry, Son."

"Don't _worry_?" Scott demanded, then sighed and scrubbed his hand across his face, remembering whom he was talking to. "Sorry, Dad. I don't mean to snap at you. It's just that I feel so _helpless _out here."

"I know, Scott, I know," his father said soothingly. "Believe me. Any word yet from John?"

Well, maybe changing the subject would be the best thing. At least for a few minutes, he could avoid thinking about Virgil. "Nothing since I last reported, Father. They're still trying to pull the rocket back up out of the atmosphere." John had radioed in an hour ago to report that they had reached Saturn. The rocket they were trying to save was trapped in the atmosphere, but hadn't yet fallen into the planet. The people on board had managed to use their one remaining thruster to keep something resembling an orbit, although they were still spiraling inward. Brains and Tin-Tin were working to set up a Sky Hook to grapple it up out of the planet's atmosphere. So far the maneuver had been tricky. They were using untested methods, mostly products of Brains' vast intellect, and things were bound to go wrong or be more complicate than anticipated. Scott didn't expect to hear from them again for at least a few more hours.

"Well, let me know as soon as you hear," his father said, and signed off. As if Scott wouldn't tell him when they were done with their mission, he thought sourly. But his father hadn't meant anything by what he said. Of course he had confidence in his sons. He was just worried about another son, no doubt. Scott was a little concerned as well, but there seemed to be little danger to John, Tin-Tin, and Brains.

Scott sank back in his seat. Nothing to do now but wait. He hated waiting. Also, his leg was killing him, although he had seen no point in sharing that with his father. The pills that the doctor had given him worked to take the edge off, but as long as he used them as directed (that would be two every four to six hours), he wasn't supposed to operate heavy machinery. Considering he was currently responsible for a whole space station—the ultimate in heavy machinery, he figured taking the whole dose wasn't a good idea. He was taking half doses. It kept the pain manageable, provided he didn't move around much. The problem was, there was a lot of moving around he _had _to do. He got up every few hours to use the bathroom, forcing himself to get a glass of water while he was up. Then he had to hobble back to the control center carrying the glass. He couldn't face eating, and he hadn't tried to sleep. But he knew the importance of staying hydrated. He would be no good to anyone if he fainted from dehydration.

But other than that, the waiting. It gave his brain all kinds of time to dwell on all the really crappy things that had happened to them in the last week. First, being trapped, helpless. Now being isolated, helpless. Scott was noticing a pattern lately that he did _not _like. He really wanted to talk to somebody, but the problem was, the person he normally shared these kinds of things with—inasmuch as he ever shared feelings with anyone—was currently lying unconscious in a hospital bed—but not in a coma, he reminded himself. Just recovering. He would have considered talking to John, except that he was busy, and also didn't know what was going on. Scott thought again of how angry John would be. Well, there was no help for it now.

It was another three hours before he heard anything. "Thunderbird 3 to International Rescue," John hailed.

Normally the communication internal to a rescue would be handled by the command center on Tracy Island. In this case, though, Thunderbird 3 was so far out that only the strong instruments of Thunderbird 5 could receive her. Consequently, Scott had been handling information transfer between them and Tracy Island, and this call was for him, not for his father. "Go ahead, John," he said immediately, leaning forward.

"Mission accomplished," John said, appearing on the screen. He sounded and looked very happy. As well he should. It had been a tricky business.

"Great job!" Scott said. It had taken a surprisingly short amount of time, considering what they'd had to do. "How's the Saturn rocket?"

John chuckled. "Brains got to do a little space walk. She's not a hundred percent, but she'll make it back to Earth." Brains, visible with Tin-Tin in the background, shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the space walk. To the best of Scott's knowledge, he had never been out in space before. Well, he had been in Thunderbird 3 and 5, obviously. But that was in a space_ship._ Out in space with nothing between you and a vacuum was quite another thing. Scott had taken a couple of space walks. He had to admit he kind of liked them.

"That's great, John," Scott said. "And Brains and Tin-Tin. You guys did great. Look, I—" he stopped. He had put it off as long as he could. This was the part he was dreading: telling them that Virgil had nearly died, a full day ago, and he hadn't told them. It caught in this throat.

"What is it?" John asked, face suddenly concerned.

"Look, I couldn't tell you before because you had to focus on the mission," he said, still not quite able to come out and say it.

"Something happened!" John exclaimed. "What happened? Are you ok?" He peered closely at the screen, no doubt looking Scott over for recent trauma. He wondered what he saw. Scott figured he was probably looking pretty haggard by now.

"I'm fine," Scott said. Relatively speaking, that was true.

"Virgil," John said. "What happened to Virgil?" Behind him, Tin-Tin gasped and put her hand in front of her mouth, looking horrified.

This sucked just as much as Scott was afraid it would. "Remember the storm we mentioned?" Scott said. John nodded. "Well, Kyrano went out to batten down the hatches, and got into trouble. Virgil went to help him."

"He's not—" John started to say, but couldn't finish. Tin-Tin came forward to rest a hand on John's shoulder, and Brains leaned closer.

"He's alive!" Scott assured them hurriedly, suddenly realizing how this was sounding. "The doctor says he'll be fine."

"But…"

"But he fell and reinjured his abdomen. He had to go in for surgery again."

"He's going to be ok?" John asked, needing to hear it again, no doubt.

Here was the tricky part. Since Virgil hadn't regained consciousness yet, they didn't actually know for certain that he _would _be ok, despite the doctor's guarded optimism. "He'll be ok," he said anyway.

"You should have told us right away," Tin-Tin said accusingly, frowning at him. "When did this happen?"

Scott squeezed his eyes shut. "About a day ago," he said, and waited for the storm.

"A DAY ago? And you're just now getting around to telling us?" John demanded, sounding outraged. "Scott, what were you _thinking_?"

Scott sighed and opened his eyes to three angry faces. "I was thinking you needed to focus on the mission. I know you're all angry. I don't blame you. But if I'd told you, a day ago, that Virgil needed immediate medical attention, what would you have done?"

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"You would have wanted to rush right home, right? Even though you were several hours out, and couldn't possibly have gotten to him before he got to the hospital."

"Well, we—"

"So what would you have done? Either you would have come back and let the people in the rocket die—and I really don't think you would have—or you would have gone on, but been worried and distracted, thereby slowing down the rescue."

John was silent for several minutes. He glared at Scott for a while, then looked away. But he didn't break the connection. In the background, Tin-Tin and Brains shifted uncomfortably. "I do see your point," he said finally. "Look, Scott…I can't speak for Tin-Tin and Brains, but there's something you're forgetting about me, big brother. I'm almost _always _in a situation where I think one of my brothers is going to die, and I can't help them. It's the major disadvantages of being the Space Monitor so much of the time. I could have handled it. You should have told me."

Scott hadn't even thought of that. "So when Virg and I were trapped underground—"

"I was going out of my _mind_, Scott! My God! You must know how that feels, because I'm sure you've been dealing with a similar feeling for the last day. But the point is, I can do my job and worry about my brothers at the same time. I really hope you remember that the next time you decide to keep me in the dark about something like this!"

Scott chewed on that for a bit. "I'm sorry," he said. "I had no right not to tell you."

"That goes for us too," Tin-Tin said. "Virgil is our family too, Scott. You all are. We would have liked to have known." Brains nodded agreement.

"I'm sorry," Scott said again. "God forbid we ever find ourselves in a similar situation, but next time I won't keep anything back."

"Good," John said, sounding somewhat mollified. "Now. It'll be a day before we get back to you, and then we can all go see how Virgil's doing. We're heading back right away."

"Yeah," said Scott, hoping his brother would have woken up by then.

"What is it?" John asked, apparently noting something in Scott's tone. "There's something else you're not telling us, isn't there?"

Scott winced at the return of the accusing tone. Well, he had promised not to keep them in the dark. He took a breath, and told him everything. He told him about the need to choose between saving the people in the submarine and saving Virgil, about Alan's decision, and even about how he himself would have done the same thing. "It ended up ok for the submarine crew," he finished.

"Poor Alan," Tin-Tin said into the silence.

"It's a hell of a decision to make," John said. "And Scott, maybe it _is _better that you didn't share _that _while it was happening. It would have been a terrible temptation to try to rush back and help, you're right. That was basically the reason you didn't tell us, isn't it?"

Scott nodded, feeling a little better by his words. John had apparently decided to forgive him. "Yeah, pretty much," he said.

"But he has not awakened since the surgery?" Tin-Tin asked.

"Well, no," Scott said. "But Father said Doctor Lowry told him it's to be expected, and not to worry yet."

"Then we won't worry," John said, although he didn't sound sincere, and Scott knew they would all be as worried as he was until his brother woke up. "Hang in there, Scott. We'll be there as soon as we can."

oOo

Alan sat miserably in the lounge. He desperately wanted to see Virgil, to see for himself that his brother was still alive. But since he had decided to take him to this hospital as International Rescue, he could never go there as Alan Tracy, brother of the patient. Which meant he had to rely on Gordon to tell him how things were going. Gordon, at least, didn't seem upset with him.

His father, on the other hand, hadn't said five words to Alan in the last day. Well, who could blame him? Not only had Alan disobeyed a direct order, twice, and put their security at risk by taking Virgil to the hospital in Thunderbird 2, but he had also put his father and Gordon in danger by leaving, not to mention abandoning the people in the sub. International Rescue was _never _supposed to do that. Gordon had told him later that Father had smoothed things over by telling the people—who were wondering why the big green plane had left—that it was needed elsewhere for another rescue.

Alan had returned as soon as he could, and with a rare bit of luck, had actually arrived just in time to pick up Gordon and Pod 4. As soon as the pod was safely stowed, and Gordon was in the cockpit with him, their father had taken off in Thunderbird 1, radioing briefly to let International Rescue know they were off. He hadn't said anything to Alan.

"I know what you're thinking, and he doesn't hate you," Gordon had said. "He's just worried about Virgil, as we all are."

They had discussed that for a while. Alan had dropped Gordon off surreptitiously near Lady Penelope's estate and then gone back to Tracy Island. When he arrived his father was waiting for him, Kyrano and Grandma with him. "You're in charge here until we get back," he told Alan, and then they left. They got to go to the hospital and see Virgil, and Alan had been stuck on the island. With lots of time to think about what was happening.

The first thing he did was radio Scott and fill him in on any detail he could think of. Uncharacteristically, Scott hadn't asked Alan how he was or been at all big-brotherly. Well, that was understandable, since he was worried about Virgil. But Alan had really needed someone to talk to.

Later, Father and Kyrano had come back, leaving Grandma and Gordon in the hospital. His father had unceremoniously taken back over at the command center. Alan didn't even try to talk to him. He was afraid of what he would say. Instead he found out from Kyrano how his brother was doing. Then he had spent the next day avoiding his father.

That was about to change, though. His father unexpectedly walked in and headed straight for Alan, giving him no time to exit unobserved. "Hello, Alan," he said, and sat down on the other end of the couch.

"Father," Alan said. Well, no use putting off the inevitable any longer.

"Son, we have to talk about what happened yesterday," his father said.

"I know, Father," he said, unsuccessfully trying to gauge how angry his father was. The thing was, he didn't look angry at all.

His father shifted, and Alan could have sworn he looked nervous. But that was impossible. The great Jeff Tracy, at a loss for words? That was unthinkable. "I'm sorry that I—" Alan started, but his father held up a hand, cutting him off.

"I have something to say first, Alan," he said. "I know that you understand the sacrifices and risks that we take as International Rescue. Furthermore, I'm sure you understand the need to strictly obey orders. It's the only way that rescues can be quickly and efficiently carried out."

"I know that, but I—"

"Let me finish, please, Alan. That being said, it's equally important for everyone in a mission to understand what's happening in the big picture, and acting according to what is best for everyone. Alan, I know you understood the big picture. I do not believe that you would have left if either your brother, myself, or the people in the submarine had been in any immediate danger. You gauged the situation, and took the course of action necessary to save everyone, despite my order to the contrary." He stopped to draw breath, but Alan didn't feel like interrupting this time. "Son, you made the right call. I did not. You saved Virgil's life, and you didn't jeopardize anything other than our image. I was wrong."

Alan gaped, open-mouthed. His father had just admitted to being wrong. He never thought he would live long enough for that. He waited, but his father didn't seem to have anything else to add. "So you're not mad, then," Alan said lamely.

His father laughed bitterly. "Sure I am, Alan. But at myself, not at you. I was so focused on the rescue at hand that I didn't stop to consider that we could have postponed it, that Virgil was more urgent."

"What makes you think that I was thinking about the big picture?" Alan asked, playing devil's advocate despite himself.

His father looked at him steadily. "Weren't you?"

Alan wasn't so sure, actually. He had been desperate to save his brother. But then he remembered that when the news started to come in, he was actively discharging passengers. If he hadn't at least been thinking about them a little, he would have taken off with strangers aboard. "Yes, I guess I was," he said.

His father smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good! Now, I know you're frustrated about being stuck here and not able to see Virgil, but that was the right call too."

"I love you, Dad," Alan said impulsively. He realized that it had been years since he had said that.

"I know," his father said gruffly. "I love you too. I love all of you. I should say it more often." He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm off to see Virgil. I should be back tonight. You're in charge of the command center until I return."

And just like that, the conversation was closed. Alan felt immeasurably better, though. "Right, Father," he agreed, unfolding himself from the couch to go man his post.


	7. Revelation

**Chapter 7: Revelation**

Virgil floated up out of the murky depths of drug-assisted sleep. He knew he had been drifting in and out for what was probably days. He could remember bits and snatches of conversation, concerned faces, and gentle hands holding his hand, touching his forehead. But he hadn't felt particularly clear-headed any of these other times. Now, he felt more lucid than he had since freeing Kyrano in the pool.

He also felt very _safe._ It took him a moment to realize this was because he was being cradled in someone's arms. He realized that this was the first time anyone had _held_ him since his mother died, years and years ago. For a moment he thought it might be his father, but that was ridiculous. Jeff Tracy loved his sons; none of them doubted that. But he was as far from physically demonstrative as it was possible to be.

It was Scott. Virgil knew this without having to look. He could just feel it. Scott was holding him, carefully positioned so as not to hurt his injuries. He doubted it was very comfortable for Scott's leg, though. Virgil licked dry lips. "Hey," he said softly. "You sleeping?"

Scott jumped slightly. The sudden movement caused a dull twinge in Virgil's side that would have been really painful if he wasn't currently doped up on so much painkiller. Scott had probably been dozing, and Virgil felt kind of bad for waking him. But he felt a lot worse for worrying him. "Hey, Virg," Scott said in a relieved tone.

"Hey," Virgil said, and coughed slightly as the word caught in his dry throat.

He felt a little motion, and then Scott was holding a straw to his lips. He took a drink, and talking became immediately easier. "Thanks," he said.

"How're you feeling?" Scott asked, returning the drink to the bedside table.

This was interesting. Virgil had been certain that as soon as Scott knew he was awake, he would become embarrassed and would extricate himself from his current position. But he seemed to be making no move to do so. If anything he'd tightened his grip. Virgil was secretly glad. He was amazed at how much comfort the physical contact (not to mention the love associated with it) provided. "I'm really doped up on pain meds," he said.

This got the desired chuckle from his brother. "Probably best," he said. "You had us all very worried, Virgil."

Virgil frowned. "Are you ok, Scott?"

"I'm fine," Scott said quickly. "As long as I stay off my leg I'm—"

"I didn't mean your leg, Scott," Virgil cut him off.

Scott was quiet for a while. Finally he sighed and tightened his grip on Virgil slightly. "No, Virg, I'm not ok."

"Hey," Virgil said gently. "I'm ok, Scott."

"No, you're not," Scott argued. "And you almost died, Virg. Not once, but twice. And there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it!"

Virgil squirmed a little until he could look up at his brother's face. "I'm sorry I worried you," he said.

"Worried me?" Scott said, and laughed bitterly. "Here you are, two days after nearly _dying_, and you're worrying about _my _mental state?"

Virgil gingerly lifted his uninjured arm, careful not to disturb the IV line, and patted his brother's forearm. "Well, you're obviously too busy worrying about me to worry about yourself. When was the last time you ate or slept, for example?"

Scott pressed his cheek against the top of Virgil's head. "I love you, Virg. I don't know what I would do without you."

Virgil tightened his grip on Scott's arm. "I love you too, big brother." He was a little freaked out, here. He was used to Scott being so together, always knowing what to do and keeping everyone else calm. And here he was, falling apart a bit. "What happened, Scott? I don't really remember anything after getting the table off of Kyrano. He's ok, right?" he added, suddenly concerned.

"He's fine," Scott said. "He's feeling extremely guilty, but he's just fine."

"So what happened?" _To you, particularly._

Scott sighed again. "He pulled you out. I guess you had passed out by then. Grandma contacted Father, and Alan came to get you."

"So they were done with the rescue?" Virgil asked. When Scott didn't answer, he demanded, "They _were _done with the rescue, weren't they?"

"Virg, this probably isn't the best time to—"

Virgil sucked in his breath, horrified. They hadn't really left people stranded in a submarine on the ocean's floor to come and get him, had they? That went against everything that International Rescue stood for. "Scott," he said, keeping his voice calm, "please tell me what happened."

"Ok," Scott said. "But please try to look at this from our point of view, Virg. We _know _you would give your life for the cause, but some of us just weren't able to do that. Give your life, that is. Alan left the rescue site to get you. If he _hadn't _you would have died, Virgil."

"And the people in the submarine?" Virgil asked. He was finding it hard to be mad at Alan, but he was disappointed in him for leaving a rescue.

"They got out fine. Gordon was down there cutting through the hull, and Father was repairing Thunderbird 1 and coordinating the rescue."

Virgil relaxed. "So no harm done, then. Is Alan ok?"

"I would have done exactly the same thing, Virgil," Scott admitted quietly. "If I hadn't been stuck on Thunderbird 5. If I'd been closer—"

"Scott, Scott," Virgil said. "Hey. So you had to listen. You couldn't do anything to help me. But you were up there keeping an eye on the whole operation, ready to assist anyone who needed it. If a call had come in for International Rescue—"

"If a call had come in, they would have been totally screwed," Scott commented.

"We need more vehicles and pilots," Virgil said. It was something he'd thought about before, and he imagined that Scott and their father undoubtedly had as well. "And you were keeping track of Thunderbird 3," he said.

"Whom I did not inform about what had happened to you until _after _they had completed their rescue," Scott said.

Virgil snorted. "I'll bet _that _went over well."

"They were furious," Scott said. "I don't blame them. But they were three hours out when—when you…they would have wanted to come back to help. It would have put them in a horrible position."

"Kind of like Alan," Virgil said. "Poor Alan. I hope that Father hasn't been too hard on him."

"I don't think Father's mad at him at all," Scott said.

"That's good. And he did save my life," Virgil said.

Scott hugged him tighter. "A fact for which I for one am very grateful."

"Scott, are you going to be ok?" Virgil asked seriously.

"I'm fine—" Scott started, but Virgil cut him off impatiently.

"No, Scott, you're obviously not fine! _I'm _not fine! We were buried alive! We almost died! And I _know _you, brother. It must be killing you that you weren't able to get us out, and then again when you were stuck on the satellite! I feel the same way about being buried. We're supposed to be the rescuers, not the rescued!" He took a few breaths. "Look, Scott," he said more quietly. "What we do is really dangerous. We all knew that when we agreed to do this. There is a chance that one of us might die every time we go out. So far we've been lucky. There's no use in thinking about what might have happened. The fact is we're both still here, and we're both going to be just fine. Ok?"

Scott buried his face in Virgil's hair. "Thanks, Virg. You're right, of course. I'm sorry to be so—so—"

"Concerned for my well-being?" Virgil asked. "I think I can forgive you for that, Scott."

Scott laughed shakily. It wasn't much, but it was something. "Thanks, Virg," he said, lifting an arm to wipe his face. Virgil was shaken to realize that Scott had been crying. Now Scott did extricate himself, carefully lowering Virgil and swinging his legs off the bed, wincing at the movement.

"You should have them give you whatever they've given me," Virgil commented, watching him. He was in almost no pain. Of course, he also was having trouble putting two thoughts together, but hey. No pain.

Scott looked over at his brother. "I guess that's not a bad idea. I'm currently back for observation anyway, although I think that Father's trying to get us both discharged."

Virgil didn't feel nearly ready to be discharged, but he could see the wisdom. It was risky enough that he had been brought back to the same hospital. By International Rescue, no less. "Hey," he said, "how'd they explain Alan dropping me off here in Thunderbird 2, anyway?"

"He told them that Father had called in International Rescue because they'd be the only ones fast enough," Scott replied, transferring himself to his own bed, wincing with every movement.

"That work?"

Scott shrugged. "Seems to have."

"Have you been here long?" Virgil asked. Scott was dressed, but he had a bed, which implied that he had been recently checked in. From the unrumpled appearance of his bedding, it also appeared he had been sitting with Virgil since he arrived. Frankly, Virgil was surprised that Scott had been readmitted. He suspected that there was more to this story than he knew.

"A few hours," Scott said. "It took time for Thunderbird 3 to get back and pick me up."

"So Father's trying to get us discharged, but you just got checked in…" Virgil was getting confused. Maybe it was the meds. Maybe Scott had checked himself in to keep an eye in him.

Scott snorted. "Doctor Lowry took one look at me and filled out the paperwork herself. I tell ya, Virg, that is one over-protective doctor!" Ok, maybe Scott _hadn't _checked himself in.

"In her defense, you really do look terrible," Virgil couldn't help but comment. It was true. Scott was disheveled, pale, and exhausted. He clearly hadn't slept while he had been up in Thunderbird 5.

"Thanks," Scott said dryly. "You don't look so hot yourself."

"I don't feel so hot either," Virgil admitted. He was getting sleepy again. He wondered how long it would be before he could go more than five minutes without falling asleep.

The next thing he knew, door to their room burst open, tearing him out of sleep. Doctor Lowry hurried in and slammed the door shut behind her. Then, to their bemusement, she dragged a heavy piece of equipment in front of the door, then rested her body against it for good measure. "Can we help you with anything, Doctor?" Scott enquired.

"Open this door!" they heard their father's muffled voice.

Doctor Lowry turned to look at Scott and Virgil. "He may have filled out the papers," she said, "but he will be removing you from this room over my dead body."

"Our doctor is kidnapping us," Virgil said to Scott. "Doctor, why are you kidnapping us?" He wasn't alarmed. He was more amused than anything, although she seemed very serious about this. The idea of a doctor holding patients hostage in a hospital room was so ludicrous that he couldn't be worried. Or maybe it was still the pain meds.

"Because as long as you are here you are safe!" she exploded. "I _told _him not to take you home the first time. It would be different if you would stay in bed and rest. But you two fools keep insisting on going gallivanting around trying to save half the universe! If you do not stay in bed you will never heal! Don't you _get _that?"

Scott narrowed his eyes as Virgil felt the beginnings of alarm. She seemed to have a really good idea of what they had been up to. "What do you mean, save half the universe?" Scott asked.

She sucked in her breath. "I didn't—oh to Hell with it!" she exploded. She left the equipment to hold the door and advanced on them, full head of steam restored. "I mean that right now you are both invalids, and I will not have your obsessive need for secrecy allow you to be removed from this hospital and get you both killed!"

"What do you-?" Scott started. But it was becoming clear that she knew who they were, or at least suspected it.

"What do you _think _I mean, Mister-mobile-control?" she demanded.

Fears confirmed. She knew who they were. Virgil shot a look at Scott, who looked as stricken as he did. "How…?" Scott asked.

Doctor Lowry softened slightly. "How did I know? I'm very good with voices, Scott. Do you remember six months ago, when you rescued a group of people who were trapped in that big accident in the Chunnel?"

Scott couldn't very well agree without confirming who they were. He simply said, "Go on."

"I was one of those people," she said. "I know that you never met most of us face-to-face. But I have a very powerful radio in my car, and I was picking up a lot of your transmissions. I know you are…" She screwed her face up, remembering, "you are Mobile Control. And Virgil, you were the one in the 'Firefly,' putting out the flames before we all died. The two of you saved my life." Her face hardened. "And I will be damned if I let anything happen to either of you! Not on my watch!"

Virgil whistled. She had them. He exchanged a look with Scott, who nodded slightly. There was no use pretending. "Ok, you got us, Doctor Lowry," he said. "So now what?"

"Jennifer," she corrected. "And please don't worry about your secret. I have not told anyone, and I will not."

Virgil believed her. Scott was still looking skeptical, though. "How long have you known?" Virgil asked.

"Since the first time I heard either of you speak," she said. "That, and it was an interesting coincidence that you two were brought to me just after two International Rescue people were injured underground."

"Who else noticed that?" Scott asked, tensing.

She grinned at him. "Oh, don't worry. I filed a report detailing how your injuries were _very _consistent with your story of being trapped in a cave-in. I think perhaps one or two doctors wondered a little, but I do not think anyone else here pays such close attention to the news of International Rescue as I do."

Great. They had a groupie. "Thanks for covering for us," Virgil said. "I think you can let Father in now, Jennifer."

She looked dubious. "Does that mean you will stay here until you're strong enough to go home? Until you have your _doctor's _ok to be discharged?"

Virgil exchanged a look with Scott, who still looked a little skeptical. Virgil, for his part, kind of wanted to stay in the nice, soft hospital bed where the pain meds flowed freely for a few more days. "Let us discuss it with Father," he said, unwilling to commit.

Jennifer gave him a hard look, but finally nodded and pushed the equipment away from the door. In burst a very angry Father, followed closely by Gordon, John, and Tin-Tin. "Just what was the meaning of that?" he demanded of the doctor as soon as he was in the room.

She just smiled benignly and left, closing the door behind her. "She doesn't want us to get hurt," Scott told his father as soon as the door shut.

"She knows who we are," Virgil added.

"Virgil, you're awake!" Gordon exclaimed, ignoring the bigger issue completely. "It's good to see you."

Virgil grinned at him. "Thanks." He turned back to his father. "She recognized me and Scott," he elaborated. He was starting to feel exhausted by all the excitement, but this was an issue that needed to be dealt with now. There would be time to sleep later.

"Apparently she recognized our voices. She's known who we are the whole time," Scott added, taking over for Virgil, for which he was grateful. "She says she hasn't told anyone, and won't. She also said she's been covering for us."

Their father looked worried. "All the more reason to get you boys out of here," he said finally.

"What good would that do?" Virgil asked. "We were checked in under our own names. All she has to do is describe out connection to International Rescue."

"It's just her word against ours, though, if she _does _leak this," Scott pointed out.

Virgil was starting to have trouble focusing. His side and stomach were starting to hurt, and he was fading. He really wasn't up to a long debate right now. He closed his eyes wearily. "Look," he said, "whatever happens will happen whether or not we stay here, right? And I…" He took a deep breath. He was uncomfortable disagreeing with his father anyway, but in this case it also meant admitting weakness. "I don't think I should leave yet," he managed, keeping his eyes closed to avoid seeing his father's face. Or Scott's either for that matter.

His declaration was met with silence. He lay still, refusing to open his eyes. When Scott finally spoke, Virgil was jerked awake, having begun to drift off already, much to his annoyance. Scott broke off what he was starting to say—which sounded a little like concern about Lowry, and said instead, "I think Virgil's right, Father. I could use a little more recovery time as well, I think." _In other words, Virgil is staying and I'm staying with him. _Virgil felt a warm gratitude for his brother's support. He let himself drift again, confident in Scott's ability to keep him from being discharged right away.

"Father, he really needs to stay here," he heard Scott say. He was obviously trying to keep his voice low enough that Virgil couldn't hear him, but with their beds only a few feet apart, that was nearly impossible. They must think he was asleep already.

"But Scott—"

"No. Look. I'll stay with him, Father. Doctor Lowry seems sincere. I think we can trust her. And I will not—" his voice started to rise, and he broke off, only to resume quietly enough that Virgil had to strain to hear, "I will not lose him simply because we took him away from necessary hospital care."

"Scott, I hope you're not implying that I—"

"Of course not, Father. And I do understand your position, of course I do. Normally I would agree with you, but after all that's happened…"

They kept talking, but Virgil wasn't able to stay awake any longer. His body required more sleep to heal. He drifted off to the soft voices of his brother and father arguing over his fate.

oOo

A/N: This was my FAVORITE chapter to write. I know it's a little bit OOC, but bear in mind that Scott's just spent two days out of his mind with worry.


	8. Home Again

**Chapter 8: Home Again**

As it turned out, Virgil and Doctor Lowry won, and he ended up spending another week in the hospital. Scott stayed with him, even though it was obviously a ploy. A broken leg didn't warrant that much hospital time. Not that Virgil minded. He noticed that they both were getting plenty of rest, and wondered how much the medication had to do with it. He knew it had an effect on him. He just wasn't sure if Scott was getting the same meds, since he didn't have the IV, and he hadn't figured out a way to ask without actually…_asking._ Their father or Gordon or John visited every day. Virgil had asked about John's presence, and found out that Alan had gone up to the space station, since he couldn't come here to visit without being recognized.

By the end of the week, though, Virgil was ready to go home. He felt a lot better, and now that his medication had been reduced to the point that he could think again, he was getting bored. He was amazed that Scott hadn't exploded from the inactivity yet. As it was, he had taken to pacing the hall on crutches. He probably thought that Virgil didn't know, since he slept so much of the time. But he knew.

On the morning of day seven, Virgil was awake when Scott came back in from one of his hallway forays. As he was getting into bed, Virgil said, "You're obviously going nuts in here. You really don't have to stay here for me, Scott."

Scott jumped. "I…uh, I thought you were sleeping," he said, tucking himself back into bed. That would have been a lot more effective if he hadn't been fully-clothed.

Virgil sighed. "Scott, are you even actually a patient here?"

Scott looked momentarily guilty, then covered it. "Of course! Doctor Lowry said I need to stay off my leg, and the only way to do that was to—"

"Crutch around the halls at all hours of the day and night. Yes, I'm sure she approves," Virgil said, interrupting him.

"She said I should get some exercise to help it heal—" Scott said desperately.

Virgil sat up. It was getting a lot easier now, and he could even _stay _sitting for an hour without getting tired now. "Look, Scott. You want to tell me why you're really here?"

Scott let out a huge sigh and his shoulders slumped. "Ok, Virg," he said. "You're right. I'm not even a patient here. But I thought that Father would be much more willing to let you stay if I stayed and kept an eye on things. And…you really did need to spend some time here."

Virgil loved having an older brother. "Thanks, Scott," he said. "And you're right, although I'm starting to go stir-crazy now, and I can tell you are too. Maybe it's time to go back home."

"I could not agree more," said his father, startling them both as he swept into the room, Doctor Lowry at his heels.

"It looks like I am losing your company," she said, but she was smiling. "I have just given the ok for you to be released, Virgil, _provided you stay in bed when you get home._ You must have at least another week of rest, and you may not go on any more—adventures—until your arm has healed."

He saluted with his good arm. "Yes, ma'am." He looked at his father. "I've been discharged?" He tried not to sound too eager, since he had been the one originally wanting to say, but home sounded very good.

"You already have been, son," his father said. "Scott, get your things together. Virg, let's get you dressed."

"I will get a wheelchair," Doctor Lowry said, tactfully leaving while Virgil got dressed.

"I can do this myself!" he protested as his father helped him get a shirt on. In truth, it would have been very difficult to button it with his arm in a sling, but he was old enough to dress himself, dammit! He caught Scott smirking at him. "What?" he demanded.

Scott's smirk became a grin. "Nothing, Virg. Just the expression on your face."

Virgil almost stuck his tongue out at his brother, but thought better of it, since his father was in the room. He contented himself with rolling his eyes theatrically as he bowed to the necessity of letting is father help him awkwardly get his good arm into the sleeve. He drew the line at pants, though, and his father apparently realized this, because he went over to chat with Scott for a while and let Virgil finish getting dressed in peace.

He had just finished dressing when Dr. Lowry—Jennifer—came back in pushing a wheelchair. "I really wish you would consider my offer," she said to Virgil's father as she walked past him.

Virgil looked between the two, confused. "Offer? What offer?" He hated feeling out of the loop.

"The young lady suggested that our operation needs a doctor," his father said reluctantly.

"Gee, Virg, if she follows you home do you think Dad'll let you keep her?" Scott asked, smirk fully back in place.

Both Virgil and Jennifer blushed uncomfortably. "I just believe it is foolish to have nothing but EMT training between the lot of you," Dr. Lowry said primly, "when you are going to insist on injuring yourselves all the time!"

Virgil's father sighed. "And I believe that you have a very promising career here, my dear." It was clearly an argument that they'd had several times, although this was the first Virgil had heard, and he tried hard not to feel resentful about that. Maybe when he was back home it would be easier for him to keep up on current events, like trained thoracic surgeons offering to join International Rescue.

"Doctor, that's kind of you to offer your services," Scott said, trying to diplomatically diffuse the situation, "but Father's right. People need you here."

"Oh, and I suppose International Rescue doesn't help people, then?" she asked.

"Please, can we not discuss that here?" Virgil's father asked, looking around as if there were spies. "It's _supposed _to be a secret, you know."

She winked at him theatrically. "Your secret is safe with me. You know that." She sighed, then turned to Virgil. "Well, I tried. Come on then, in you go. Time for you to go home and let your brothers annoy you back to health."

Virgil grinned as he climbed into the chair. "Boy, doc, you really have my family pegged."

"Hey!" Scott protested. "We do _not _annoy you!"

Virgil quirked an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I be in the best position to know that?" Lightly bantering back and forth, they made their way out to where a car was waiting for them. Virgil stood up to get into it, only cringing a little bit at the sudden twinge in his ribs.

Jennifer Lowry took his hand and shook it gravely. "Virgil, it was nice to be able to repay you for saving my life last year. But please take care of yourself."

He smiled at her warmly. "Thank you for saving my life, doc. And I'll do my best to make sure your work lasts." He made his way into the car as she gave a similar farewell to Scott, and finally shook their father's hand. Then she went back into the hospital, pushing the now-empty chair. Virgil's family climbed in, and they were soon underway to the airport, where a private jet was waiting to take them back to Tracy Island.

"You know, it might actually be worth considering," Virgil suggested tentatively.

His father looked at him. "You mean letting her join International Rescue?"

"It could be handy to have a doctor on board," Scott said.

"Look," their father said, "I do see the point, but I meant what I said about her career. It was bad enough that _Kyrano_ gave up a promising career out of loyalty to the Tracy family. I don't want to see hers ruined as well."

"What makes you think that working for International Rescue is a career-killer?" Scott asked a little bit defensively. "I find it fulfilling, myself."

"I meant that, for people in certain fields—like medicine—having to be completely anonymous would be detrimental to their advancement. She would never be able to publish in a medical journal. She doesn't need to join International Rescue to save lives. She already does that on a daily basis. Now, my mind is made up. I have nothing more to say on the subject."

That was a sufficient conversation-stopper to keep them quiet all the way to the jet. Once there, however, quiet became impossible. The jet contained Gordon, Tin-Tin, and Alan, just back from Thunderbird 5. "Virgil!" he yelled happily, giving his brother an exuberant—but very careful—hug.

Virgil wrapped his good arm around his brother's shoulders. He hadn't seen his baby brother in a week, and he had actually missed him, although he would never admit that. "Hey," he said. "Keeping out of trouble?"

"He _is _trouble," Gordon said automatically, grinning at his brothers.

"If we could all sit down, the pilot would like to take off now," their father said pointedly. Everyone good-naturedly took their seats, and soon they were heading for home. The conversation stayed light and bantering, for which Virgil was glad. He had been a little afraid that there would be more 'how are you feeling,' and he was quite sick of it. As it was, though, keeping up the pretense of being completely healthy was exhausting, and by the time they reached Tracy Island, he was ready for bed.

The concern returned when the disembarked. To Virgil's annoyance, his father, Scott, Gordon, Alan, _and _Tin-Tin all tried to help support him as he climbed painfully out of the jet. On the ground, his grandmother, Kyrano and Brains joined in. "Ok, ok," he finally snapped. "I need air, people!"

As rebukes went, it was a mild one, but coming from the usually good-natured Virgil, his family backed off. He stiffly walked to his room, aware that they were still hovering with concern, just a few steps farther away. He pointedly closed the door on them and sank gratefully into his bed. He was exhausted, and was starting to hurt again.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the concern. He really did. It was just that he wasn't used to being an invalid. He didn't _want _to get used to being one. It was bad enough the time that Thunderbird 2 had been shot down. At least that time he had only been down for a few days. This time it felt like he had been in bed for years. He stretched out, in bed again but too tired to try to sit up, and contemplated whether to try to get undressed or just fall asleep the way he was. It was than that there came a tentative knock on the door. He sighed. It better just be _one _of them. "Come in," he called.

Alan entered. Virgil was momentarily surprised, since he had been expecting either his father or Scott coming to check on him. But he immediately realized that this was a different kind of visit. Alan looked serious, and slightly uncomfortable. "Hey, Virgil," he said.

"Have a seat," Virgil said, indicating a chair. He struggled up to a sitting position again, although he did concede to prop himself against the headrest.

"I know you're probably tired…" Alan's voice trailed away.

Virgil reached out and put a hand on Alan's arm. He suddenly realized that this was the first that Alan had seen him since he had brought him, nearly dead, to the hospital a week ago. He couldn't imagine how hard it had been for him to not come to visit. "It's ok," he assured him. "I'm glad to see you, kiddo."

Alan smiled a little at this. "You're doing a lot better."

"Since the last time you saw me?" Virgil asked lightly. "Yeah, I would say so."

"Virgil, you—that is, I'm sure that you've heard—" Alan clearly had something he wanted to say, but was having trouble getting it out.

Virgil had a pretty good idea of what the problem was. "You saved my life, Alan. I'm grateful, not angry. Quit worrying about it."

Alan sagged with relief at the words. "I—I was afraid that you—" he started. He closed his eyes, but not before Virgil could see tears through the lashes.

He pulled his brother into a hug. "Hey. Hey, it's ok, Alan." Alan gripped him back, and they stayed that way for a few minutes, while Alan slowly got hold of himself. Eventually Virgil gently pushed him away. "I could never be mad at your for caring enough to come get me, little brother."

Alan tried a smile, but it didn't work very well. "It's just…I left a rescue. We're _never _supposed to do that. What if something had gone wrong? Gordon or Father could have been hurt, or worse—"

"But nothing _did _happen like that, ok?" Virgil said firmly. "Stop beating yourself up about it."

Alan hugged him again. "I'm glad you're back."

Virgil laughed. "Me too."

Alan let go and sat back. He looked a lot better. "I hear your doctor wants to join International Rescue," he said, a twinkle in his eye.

Virgil sighed, annoyed. "I guess _everyone _but me knew, didn't they?"

"Hey," Alan said, sobering. "It's not like that. It's just that Father is so adamant about not even considering it, they didn't think to mention it. Didn't want to get your _hopes up._" The twinkle was back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Virgil demanded.

"Well, you seem to have an admirer," Alan said, grinning.

"Alan, she's my _doctor_!" Virgil exclaimed. "Why does everyone assume just because she's female, it's like that?"

"Perhaps it's because she seems to desperate to join us," Alan said.

Virgil frowned. "I don't think it's like that," he said slowly. "The way she relates to me, and to Scott too. It's more…_maternal_. Protective. You know that we rescued her a while back, right?"

"I'd heard about that, yes," Alan confirmed.

"I don't know if it's some sort of need to pay us back or just general protectiveness," Virgil said, "but I think she just wants to take care of us. It's kind of nice, actually. I hope Father reconsiders letting her join."

"It would be handy to have a doctor around," Alan agreed. "Especially since you seem so determined to hurt yourself all the time!"

Virgil ruffled his little brother's hair, getting a satisfying protest. "Like I'm the only one who comes back from a rescue with a few scrapes."

"A few…scrapes?" Alan asked, incredulous. "_Scrapes_?"

The look on his face was too good. Virgil burst out laughing, even though it hurt his ribs. After a moment, Alan joined in. It felt good to just laugh for a while.

Eventually they calmed down. Alan rubbed his eyes. "Thanks, Virg. It really is good to have you back."

Virgil grinned, but ruined the effect by yawning. "Good to be home."

"And you're exhausted," Alan said contritely, "and I'm keeping you from sleeping. Sorry."

"It's ok," Virgil said, patting his arm. "But I think I'm going to turn in now."

Alan got up to go, but turned back at the door. He opened his mouth, but closed it again without saying anything. Instead he just smiled, gave a little wave, and turned the light out on his way. Virgil looked after him for a while, then scooted back down on the bed. He was too tired to get undressed. In moments he was sleeping, more relaxed than he had been in days.

oOo

A/N: I know it's generally considered that Brains is their doctor, but I really don't think it's plausible. I don't know WHO fixes them up when they get hurt in the series. And as always, thanks for reading!


	9. Epilogue: Back in the Saddle

Chapter 9: Back in the Saddle

It was the first mission since Virgil and Scott had been allowed back into the field, and it hadn't gone well. First, there was equipment failure in the Mole. Just as Brains had finished apologizing for that, an electrical storm had sprung up, temporarily cutting off communications. Just as Jeff was about to go out of his mind with worry, they had gotten through, assuring him they were ok, and it was just a bit of lightning, so lighten up, Dad.

Now, someone had just shot Thunderbird 4. Virgil had heard the impact over the radio. That was followed by silence. He could hear Scott's voice from mobile control, growing more and more frantic. "Gordon, _Gordon_! Come in, Thunderbird 4!"

Virgil continued to pilot the Mole deeper, mindful of the fact that no amount of worrying about Gordon would give him the ability to help. For one thing, the Mole was very deep, and it would take at least ten minutes to back out. For another thing, even if he could get out, neither the Mole nor Thunderbird 2 was a submersible, so they couldn't go down and help. On the other hand, he could put on Scuba gear and go look…

"I-I'm here," came Gordon's voice, choking off that line of thought and flooding Virgil with relief. "I'm taking on water, but it's not too bad."

"Get back up to the surface, Gordon," Scott said, sounding as relieved as Virgil was.

"But whoever shot me is still down here," Gordon pointed out. "I hate to let him get away."

"Gordon, get back to the surface," Scott reiterated, and it wasn't a request.

Virgil gave it a few moments to make sure that conversation was finished, then hailed, "Mole to mobile control and Thunderbird 4."

"Go ahead, Virgil," Scott said.

"I've reached the bottom of the shaft," Virgil said, cutting power to the drill. "Gordon, were you able to seal the water intakes before you got shot?"

"Yeah, Virgil," Gordon affirmed. "You're good to go."

"Proceed, Virgil," Scott said unnecessarily. Virgil started the drill again and pushed through into the shaft, then pulled back a few yards and took it in again about six feet to the left. That should give him a nice tunnel with a gap on the side big enough to exit out the side door. The design of the Mole didn't make underground rescues easy, he reflected as he opened the door, only possible.

He stepped out of the Mole and was immediately hit by a burst of claustrophobia. He stopped and gripped the edge of the door, waiting for it to pass. He was about thirty feet below the surface, in a fairly stable area with hard-packed earth. He was standing in about a foot of water, where it had washed in from the flooded mine shaft into the tunnel he had made. A cave-in was possible, but unlikely. He wasn't trapped. He took a few deep breaths and started forward , peering though the hole he had just made and into the shaft. "Hello? This is International Rescue. Is everybody ok?" He flashed his light around and was relieved to see all four miners present and accounted for, wearing the breathing apparatuses lowered to them earlier and pushing their way out from under the layer of debris that had so recently made the lid of their impromptu coffin. Virgil reached in and helped them out one by one, then led them to the Mole. He breathed a mental sigh as soon as they were in and the door was closed. Even a cave-in wouldn't harm the Mole. He felt a little like he was in a tank right now. He liked that feeling. "Mole to mobile control," he said.

"Go ahead," Scott returned.

"Mission successful," Virgil replied cheerfully. "Returning to surface."

"F.A.B., Virgil. Good job."

Virgil turned to his passengers, who were removing the breathing apparatuses and trying to scrub the mud off their faces. "Towels in the back of my seat, folks. We're just going to back out now, and we'll be on the surface in no time."

"Thank God for International Rescue," one of the miners said in heartfelt tones. The others muttered agreement. Virgil grinned at them, then piloted them up out of the ground, still grinning. It felt good to be back.

He felt a little less good when the reached the surface. Thunderbird 4 had been beached, and it was actually badly damaged, not the minor injury that Gordon's comments had led him to believe. The missile had crumpled one side and torn a chunk out. From this gash water was still trickling. Gordon had clearly been understating the case when he said he was only taking on a _little_ water. His fears were confirmed when he saw his brother, who had gone over to mobile control and was now talking to Scott. Gordon was soaked from head to toe. In addition to that, his sleeve was red with blood.

"Gordon!" Virgil exclaimed, hurrying over.

Scott was wrapping a bandage around their baby brother's arm. "It looks worse than it is," he told him. But he could see that Scott was concerned as well.

Gordon, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the concern the wound warranted. He grinned at Virgil, although his eyes were a little tight from pain. "Hey, Virgil. Brains is gonna kill me for getting Thunderbird 4 all shot up."

"Who would shoot at a Thunderbird vehicle?" Virgil demanded.

"I'm guessing the same whack job who shot at it before," Scott said. "You know, the guy who's been after us since the beginning and has apparently decided he's our arch enemy?"

"I don't get why International Rescue would have enemies," Virgil grumbled. Their job was hard enough without people taking pot shots at his brothers. "How's the arm, Gordon?"

"It's just a gash," Gordon said, displaying his newly-bandaged arm for Virgil to approve. "I've had worse."

Virgil almost asked when, then remembered the trouble his younger brothers had gotten into as children, and how often they had ended up bleeding all over the kitchen floor. "True," he conceded.

"I think we're pretty much set here," Scott said. "Virgil, want to give Gordon a hand loading Thunderbird 4?"

"I can do it," Gordon protested.

"Come on," Virgil said, tugging his brother towards the vehicles. "It doesn't look particularly capable of moving across land right now. What are you going to do, carry it? Let's winch it into the pod."

Gordon glumly agreed and they did that, after which Virgil drove in the Mole while Gordon got ready for take-off. As Virgil was lowering his ship onto the pod, he heard Scott radio their father and report the successful mission and their immanent return to base. "How did it go?" their father asked.

"We got the miners out," Scott said. "They'll be fine."

"That's good. Good job, boys," their father said.

"Thunderbird 4 took some damage, though," Scott added.

Gordon groaned theatrically. "Great. Now they're going to be all worried for the hour it takes us to get home!"

Virgil gave him a look of brotherly tolerance. "Scott's just being thorough. He probably wants Father to sic Lady Penelope on the guy who attacked you."

"How much damage?" their father demanded. "And is Gordon ok?"

"I'm fine!" Gordon exclaimed, reaching past Virgil and activating the communication button.

Virgil swatted his hand away. "Hey! I'm trying to take off here!"

"He's a little wet, and has a gash on his arm. But as you probably heard, it hasn't dampened his spirits, as it were," Scott said.

"Ok," their father said. "Gordon, what can you tell me about your attacker?"

"It was a small sub," Gordon said, leaning over Virgil again. "I didn't see any country identification, but I didn't get a good look, either. It fired one missile and then headed off to the North, going really fast."

"Alright, Gordon. I'll see if Lady Penelope can do anything about tracking the person who attacked you, and I'll see you all back here soon." With that their father severed the connection.

"Thunderbird 2 from Thunderbird 1," Scott said.

"Reading you loud and clear," Virgil said. As if he wouldn't be, considering they had been talking just seconds ago.

"I'm going to take a few minutes to wrap things up here and make sure the miners get off safely," Scott said. "You guys go ahead and head back. I'll catch up."

"F.A.B., Scott," Virgil said, and took off.

They arrived home an hour later, and were greeted in the Thunderbird 2 bay by Alan, Tin-Tin, and Jennifer Lowry—all of whom rushed over to inspect Gordon—and Brains, who rushed over to inspect Thunderbird 4. "I can't let you boys out of my sight for one minute, can I?" Jennifer said crossly, critically inspecting Gordon's arm.

"I'm fine," he protested.

"I will hit the next Tracy who tells me that right in the lying mouth," she informed him, gently but firmly leading him in the direction of Tracy Island's brand-new medical wing. "You will probably need stitches. You are getting a tetanus shot. I suspect I should put you on antibiotics…" her voice trailed away as she led him away, followed by Alan and Tin-Tin.

"I'm glad Father changed his mind about her," Scott commented, coming to stand beside Virgil. He had apparently wandered over from where he had just arrived in Thunderbird 1. Probably wanted to make sure Gordon was really ok.

"Yeah," Virgil agreed. "It's really good to have a doctor as part of the team."

"Especially a world-class surgeon," Scott said. They started walking. "How—" Scott started, then broke off, looking chagrined. "Sorry. I promised."

Virgil smiled over at him. "I'm fine, Scott," he said, and meant it. "We did good today."

Scott smiled back at him. "Yes. Yes we did."

oOo

A/N: Aaand that's all, folks! Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I really appreciated all the kind words. I'm glad people seemed to like Jennifer. I don't normally like original characters, but she sort of wrote herself into it. I kind of imagine her as a 'mother hen' sort of character, looking after all the Tracy brothers, putting them back together after missions, etc. And yes, I know this is a very short chapter, but it's really just meant as an epilogue.


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